Inspired By
by Baby Porcupine-Cute but DEADLY
Summary: From Flappy Bird to smirking mothers to the Walking Dead universe, this collection of one shots is basically just an outlet for ideas of mine that are too small to be extended into a full fic, or previews for future fics. Note: this can't really ever be considered "complete."
1. Project Beautiful

**This is my entry for #ProjectBeautiful! I know, really late, and WOW I just realized I'm posting this on Valentine's day… how nice. I was trying to get it done by JANUARY 14th, but my stupid overthinking-ness got in the way. Ugh. So, this is the first of a series of oneshots for this compilation (I know I'm not using this word in the right context, but I like it and this is my author's note so I can do whatever I want. Anyway, here's how this is going to work: each chapter is a one shot that is inspired by... Something. Whatever that something is will be specified at the top of the one shot, whether it's a song or something that happened to me or whatever. This will be posted in the Kickin' It fandom, but there will be other shows included in here as well. Basically, this fic is like an outlet for random ideas that are too small to be a story by themselves but so good that I want to share them with you guys.**

**I tried to improve my writing two ways through this fic; one was making paragraphs bigger, and the other was using a bigger variety of words. I was doing well in the beginning, but then I shifted into the "GET THIS DONE" mindset, and... Yeah. If you guys see any mistakes, or some thing that doesn't make sense, PM me and I'll try to fix it.**

**I'm really mad at myself, you guys. my Language Arts teacher always says "quality versus quantity" and this was clearly a case in which quality was favored. I failed you guys. My main problem is that I'll forget little details that I include, or I'll add random ones that really don't belong. I can clearly see this inMissing Him, though not so much in Needing Them or OHDH. TT-TT Just... bear with me. Please. I swear, once Old Habits Die Hard is done, I will FINISH (or nearly finish) a fic before I start posting them, so there won't be as long of a wait. AND I will review them meticulously. **

**But... meh.**

* * *

**Inspired by:** Project Beautiful

* * *

_"A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and a man cannot live without love."_

— Max Muller

* * *

_"I was always an outsider, always standing outside, observing and trying to figure things out. Which is exactly what you need to do as a writer, I suppose."_

— Monica Ali

* * *

"Hey, did you hear about the new kid?"

"Yeah, his name is Jake or something. You think he's hot?"

"I bet he is!"

It's kind of amusing how so many students at Seaford High School can create judgments about someone they don't even _know_. All that they know about this "new kid" is that he's male and that his name is something close to Jake. Nothing more. No more information than that.

None.

And yet, even though it's clear that the two girls speaking are as narrow minded as typical "popular" wannabe, I can't help my curiosity. The last new student was me, the "blonde freak that wore all black on her first day (a description courtesy of Lindsey Craneshaw)", and that was two years ago. I'm interested in learning about my successor.

The two girls turn around the corner. I open my locker, realizing that I had stood in front of it for at least ten seconds without opening it. They immediately lower their voices to whispers. I numb myself to their murmurs. It's not anything that I'm not used to. Just a typical Monday morning.

I study the interior of my locker for a few moments. I have a deep-rooted passion for drawing and photography, so the walls are covered with rough sketches and pictures. My books and things are piled neatly into a corner. Here and there are some different colored sticky notes, or "Thought Notes," that have random little statements about things I want to remember or look up. Once these notes have outlived their use, they go in a scrap box that I have on my locker door; sticky notes are perfect for origami (well, almost perfect because of the little sticky part on the back, but that can always be rubbed off.)

I zoom in on an orange (a color reserved specifically for Lindsey and her crowd) Thought Note that I put there on Friday;

_'Avoid Lindsey; another Frank incident.'_

Panic flashes through me when I hear said girl's voice approaching; speak (or read) of the she-devil and she will appear, as the saying goes.

I quickly slam my locker shut and turn to make my getaway. She must have caught the movement, though, because she spots me before I can escape.

"Hey, _Kim!_"

Wow. She actually called me by my first name. She must be pretty angry. Normally, it's an annoying nickname like "Crawfish" or "Crayfish," or at times even "Cray Bi***."

Ok, so here's how it is; I used to take martial arts at a nearby dojo with Lindsay after school. The two of us are black belts, but Lindsey has only achieved that status because her father is in high places within the mall that the dojo is located. Our sensei refusing the belt from her wouldn't please her father, so he was forced to give it to her. One of the guys there, Frank, has had this ridiculous crush on me ever since I managed to take out him and three of his buddies all on my own. He claims that he "digs girls that aren't afraid to beat someone up." All the girls that go to the Black Dragons dojo (minus Lindsey) can beat him at sparring, so I have no idea why he chose to focus on _me_. I eventually left the Black Dragons when his little crush on me started bordering on obsessive, but I still have to face him at school.

Lindsey and Frank have a history, though I'm not sure exactly what it is. Whatever happened between them led to Frank becoming the only guy at Seaford High that isn't hopelessly pining over her. Lindsey's incredibly possessive over her past flings, so she got really peeved when he tried (and failed) to flirt with me on Friday. And yet, when it comes down to it, she can still seduce him if she wants to. She just wants him to stop coming after me.

Fight or flight… fight or flight…

I turn to face her. "Oh, hey, Lindsey," I say, my tone coming across as bored, but on the inside my heart is pounding. Her words can sting worse than an angry bee that's been put in a jar that was shaken up, poked repeatedly when it calmed down, and farted on (anyone would be mad if they were farted on. Why should bees be an exception?). I would know, having been subjected to her torture for the past two years. I look her up and down, disgusted. Her skirt gives new meaning to the word 'skanky,' and her shadows Lorie and Donna aren't much better. Like, seriously. I may not be much with my Fall Out Boy t-shirt and jeans, but at least I'm not focused on exposing as much skin as possible. "Nice outfit. Go stand on a street corner, you might make some money."

Clearly having no response to that, she scowls. "Look, you need to stay away from Frank," she says, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip and the other hooked through her handbag. She narrows her eyes and leans in, giving me a noseful of her sickeningly-sweet perfume. "I don't know what you've done to him, but you need to keep your ugly self fingers away from him."

This girl's stupidity astounds me. What could I have possibly put on him?! This isn't the Harry Potter universe (because if it was, Lindsey would be locked into a giant cage with Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy). There's no such thing as magic or wizardry or whatever the heck she might be suggesting. Frank's nice enough, but he really creeps me out. She can have him for all I care.

I roll my eyes and place a hand on the camera hanging around my neck. From past experiences, I know that this girl is not afraid to break things when enraged. "God, Lindsey. Some babies were dropped on their heads. You were clearly thrown at a wall, because you have issues. What could I have_ possibly_ done to Frank?"

She gasps angrily, calling me a synonym for "female dog" and raising a hand to slap me, but a tanned hand grabs her wrist before she can.

"Now is that really a nice thing to do?"

Whoa. Someone actually_ defending_ me? That's new. I observe the newcomer with a wary scrutiny; longish brown hair that ended just above his shoulders, a little mole on either cheek, and a trained physique. This has to be the new guy. No one else is oblivious (or stupid) enough to just grab Lindsey like that without fearing for their life. His gaze shifts to me for a second, and we make eye contact. My breath catches in my throat.

Those eyes…

Lindsey rips her hand away from him with an outraged sound, snapping me out of my little daze. _'What the heck was that, Kim?!_' I scream at myself. "How dare you—" She stops short when she gets a good look at him. In a split second, she goes from enraged to seductive. Her shadows back off, knowing not to interfere whenever Lindsay's on the prowl. "Oh. _Hello_," she purrs, moving closer to him and with no regard for the term 'personal space.'

"Hi," he says curtly, deftly stepping away from her. She stumbles, her eyes widening in shock. No one's ever outright rejected her advances like that before. It makes me wonder if he's screwed in the head. Or gay, because that's also a possibility._'It would really suck if he was though,'_ the happy, girly part of my brain says. I tell it to shut up.

"Whatever's going on between you two doesn't have to get physical, you know. I mean, I know it's none of my business—"

"It's not," I say flatly.**_ 'Don't make eye contact or you're screwed,'_** the other, gloomier part of me thinks. I don't ignore it, focusing on his eyebrow instead.

The eyebrow that I'm staring at arches as he looks at me again. "—but I'm sure this can be resolved without getting physical."

"You're right," Lindsey says, feigning regret and looking to me. "I'm sorry, Kim. I got out of hand."

If not anything else, Lindsey is the best actress I've ever seen.

She turns back to the brown-eyed stranger. "I'm Lindsey. Thank you for stopping me," she says, placing a hand on his chest and the other on his arm, looking up at him with a borderline predatory gleam in her eyes. "I really would have regretted hurting Kim. She doesn't deserve it."

I raise an eyebrow. Lindsey's made herself an example of bull crap at its finest. And yet, that bull crap is what reels in every guy at this school…

He steps away again. "You're right. She doesn't."

…except for this one?

_'He's a keeper.'_

_**'Shut up.'**_

_'… I don't even know him.'_

Lindsey's jaw drops in shock. The bell rings, punctuating his statement. The brave (or stupid) teen flashes me a small smile, and I watch him walk away with a carefree air and leave Lindsey's shadows to comfort her.

* * *

Lunchtime. One of my two favorite parts of the day, the other being art. As usual, I'm outside by myself with my lunch, my sketchbook, my pencil, and a few of my scrap sticky notes.

I hate the cafeteria. The volume is overwhelming and the place filled with jerks that revel in throwing food at me. I'd much rather come outside, where it's more calming and quiet. It's easy to get out here, too, because the cafeteria has sliding glass doors that give students easy access to the soccer field. Right next to the soccer field is the forest. If you know where to look, you can go in and find a small clearing decorated with colorful sticky-note figures and the occasional drawing.

My sanctuary.

Sometimes I come out here and draw, sketch, paint, take pictures, or make origami. The animals and the trees are perfect models for art, and they don't judge me on my appearance or throw food at me. They also never mess with the origami figurines I have hung up in different places around here. Heck, one of the birds has a blue paper crane in its nest. It's perfect out here; I have no idea what I'm going to do when it starts getting cold out.

And then there's The Tree, a special bald cypress tree that I loved as soon as I set eyes on it. Its trunk is about eight feet in diameter, and it has a strange naturally hollowed out spot within it; the hole starts about two feet above the ground on one side of The Tree, then it continues upwards for about two or three feet within the middle of the trunk and then curves out to the other side of the tree just enough that I can curl up comfortably into it. There's another, smaller hole at this place that provides light for my little hollow. It's this nook that I immediately move towards upon reaching my haven.

One of the best this about this tree is that it has "knees," or roots that extend upward above the surface of the soil. There's a giant one that right in front of the spot, so it's virtually undetectable to the outside eye. I only found it because I tripped over one of the smaller ones and spotted it behind the big knee. I like to think of all these knees around the tree as an impenetrable fortress that only I can access, and that anyone that.

My mind wanders to Lindsey and her shadows (wait, when did that happen?). I bet they never have to worry about their weight. Or their looks. Or their bodies in general. They have guys climbing over each other just to look at them. How do they do it?

It reminds me of why I've never actually gone for a guy. How the heck would I compete with _Lindsey_? She's perfect, if you put aside the little attitude problem. And then here I am, freakish and lonely and hideous. Wait, what am I saying? Why would I even need to compete? I don't do the romance.

Not since Brody.

'Well, what if he's different?' Happy (am I really naming parts of my brain?) asks. _'What if he's _not_ like Brody? I mean, you're clearly interested.'_

_**'He's not different.'** _Gloomy (I guess I am) says darkly.**_  
_**

But the thought haunts me. What if he _isn't_ like Brody? Brody, who only wanted me to make Lindsey jealous. Brody, who played me and my heart like a puppet and then left me when he got bored. Brody… who pretty much broke me.

I let out a frustrated sigh.**_ 'Stupid brown-eyed new guy screwing with your thoughts…'_ ** Those eyes. Ugh, what the heck? Why are they so special? They're brown, just like mine are. I don't go into a freaking trance or something whenever I look at myself in the mirror. I don't understand. I suddenly realize that I don't know his name. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I suppose if I wanted to get to know him it would be a bad thing. But I don't want to get to know him.

I think.

I groan, deciding to drown out my thoughts with music. I take out my MyPod and ear buds. Just glancing at the tangled mess that my ear buds have become gives me a headache, so I decide to use my headphones instead. They block out sound a lot better than the ear buds do, anyway.

_"I'm waking up, to ash and dust,_  
_I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust._  
_I'm breathing in, the chemicals…"_

I grin as the familiar song starts playing. 'Radioactive' is one of my favorite songs ever (though all my other favorite songs are by Fall Out Boy). I've seen the music video, and I can't help but compare it to my school life. A world of people, oppressed by a greedy and evil ruler. Unfair fights that no one except the evil could win. But then one person comes forward and is able to best the evil leader…

…and lets him get eaten by all those he's "vanquished."

The resulting mental picture could be considered pleasant; Lindsay getting eaten by every guy she's ever lead on, every student she's ever put down, every person she's ever made fun of. It's a bit gory, but it's a satisfying image.

I slide out of my little nook, my mood having improved a little, and pick up a nearby branch that's tapered to a point. I picture myself on a stage with the branch as my microphone, belting out the lyrics with thousands of fans cheering me on. This doesn't look like it's going to be a drawing day, but who cares? No one else knows about it. Well, I suppose the jocks that are the reason I found this clearing know where it is; they chased me into the woods one time, and I found the nook and hid inside it before they got here. They assumed I ran into some unknown direction when they reached it, so they left.

And by jocks, I mean members of my old dojo. They tried to get me to leave my current dojo and rejoin the Black Dragons. Ty, the sensei, probably sent them after me. Freaking jerks.

_"All systems go._  
_Sun hasn't died._  
_Deep in my bones,_  
_Straight from inside."_

I leap up onto a nearby tree that had fallen for some reason or the other and close my eyes, singing into the "microphone."

_"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones._  
_Enough to make my systems blow._

_Welcome to the new age,_  
_To the new age,_  
_Welcome to the new age,_  
_To the new age._

_Woah, oh oh oh oh_  
_Woah, oh oh oh, I'm_  
_Radioactive_  
_Radioactve_

_Woah, oh oh oh oh_  
_Woah, oh oh oh, I'm_  
_Radioactive_  
_Radioactve"_

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. The animals usually never surprise me, even though they come and go with no warning, but this is different somehow. Back when I was still a Black Dragon, Ty had a brief obsession with Olympic javelin throwing. Apparently, I haven't forgotten any of those skills as I whip around and hurl the branch at the source of the movement.

The new guy freezes, hands together mid-clap. His eyes are wide as he slowly looks upward at the branch that missed impaling his head by inches. I notice that his bookbag is down on the ground by his feet. He looks back at me. My arm is outstretched from releasing the branch, but I don't make any move to withdraw it.

We stand there, frozen and looking at each other for a few tense seconds. He's probably wishing he never met me. I wishing that he would just leave and pretend he never saw anything. No, better yet, get a random and unnatural bout of amnesia and forget what just happened. Wait, even better, remember everything that just happened so he could leave and never talk to me again.

_'How did he even find this place?'_ I think.

_'He must have followed you! He's so into you.'_

_**'He followed you. He **_**followed**_** you and intruded on the only place at this hellhole where you actually feel safe. You should be pissed!'**_

"You followed me," I state accusingly, lowering my arm and glaring at him angrily. He flinches. My glares are why most students don't really make eye contact with me.

His voice is an octave higher than I remember when he starts to speak. "And you—" He clears his throat and starts again, and I raise an eyebrow. I've never heard a guy's voice go that high. He runs a hand through his hair before putting his hands in his pockets. "And you almost killed me. I'm pretty sure we're both guilty here. Nice singing by the way."

I can't argue with that. Wait, yes I can. He's the one that came here!

I briefly reflect on the comment about my singing. My dad has always said I've "got pipes," but I'm not sure how to interpret hearing that from someone other than my family. I _guess _I can take it as a compliment…

He moves away from the tree he was leaning on, looking around the clearing, at my drawings and photos and origami pieces. I frown. I don't _want_ him here. Not to sound like a possessive five-year-old, but this place is _mine_. I'm not just going to let anyone come here and do whatever they please! I may not rule the school like Lindsey does, but (let me reiterate this) this is MY haven, my sanctuary, my safe place. If he thinks he can—

"You're into martial arts?"

I pause in the middle of my mental rant, realizing that I'm not actually doing anything to stop him. Why hasn't that happened yet? He had moved over to my left, dangerously close to discovering The Tree, and is holding a drawing that I finished a couple of days ago. It's of Rudy, my current sensei, and also one of the many man-childs (man-children? Men-childs?) I know, in one of his (rare) moments of seriousness. In it, he's adopted a version "horse stance," in which his legs are widely spread apart and are bent at about a forty-five degree angle. In this drawing, he has one arm bent with the back of the hand touching his forehead and the other one curved downwards with his palm hovering about four or five inches above his thigh.

"Yeah," I respond, quickly jumping off the fallen tree trunk and walking forward to take the drawing from him. He lets me do it, turning to me and smiling. My face burns as I break eye contact.

_**'Are you blushing?! What the heck! STOPPIT!'**_

_'You're a teenage girl, and you have something called hormones. You're allowed to blush.'_

_**'But not because of some guy!'**_

_'You know you like him.'_

_'No I don't! I think? I don't even know his name! UGH!'_

"Are you okay?" his voice suddenly says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I mistakenly look into those brown eyes, now filled with concern, and my mind goes blank.

"I don't know your name!" I blurt out as a response. I mentally smack myself right afterwards; _'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—'_

_'No, good. You can get to know him.'_

_'ARGH!'_

"Jack," he says, grinning sheepishly. My mind briefly flashes to Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow. Both Jacks are completely capable of making one question their sanity. "Sorry, Kim, I should have introduced myself as soon as I met you."

I open my mouth to do the same for myself, but then frown. "You know my name?"

"Uh… yeah. That Lindsey chick mentioned it." He shudders just speaking her name, and I can't help but smile internally. He remembered my name?

_**'Stop that! Stop that smiling! You should be defending your territory!'**_

My smile fades, and I nod. "Oh. Ok." I _still_ don't say anything. I open my mouth to, but nothing comes out. WHY?! I don't like him! I _can't _like him. If I ever do, then he'll rip out what's left of my heart when he leaves.

Silence. I close my mouth and bite my lower lip, avoiding the two optical globes that are the reason I'm in this mess. Otherwise, I wouldn't have any problem sending him on his way with his (hopefully) metaphorical tail between his legs. Great, now I'm picturing him as a dog. My eyes flick over the clearing that I already know every little detail about, trying to get the image of his "tail" wagging out of my head.

"…this is a lot awkward than I imagined it would be," he murmurs. I don't think I was supposed to hear it, but I do and the statement piques my curiosity. His tail stops wagging.

"You imagined this?"

**_'Don't look too deep into it. You're nothing special. When there are bitches like Lindsey out there? No. You don't have a chance.'_**

_'But he remembered your name! So he cares at least a little bit…_

His head snaps up to meet my eyes, and I once again shift my gaze to his eyebrow. "What? Yeah," he says, though his voice has risen an octave again in quite a comical manner. "I mean… no?"

_**'See?'**_

_'Oh, come on, don't tell me you can't hear the doubt in his voice.'_

_**'Do you really believe that crap?'**_

_'…'_

Gloominess is clearly winning over, and my conflicted mood takes a turn for the worst. "Why are you even here?" I say quietly, bitterly. "Why did you follow me here? You know what, forget that. Here's a bit of advice: if you know what's good for you, you won't hang around me. I'm a freak." I spit the word out with disdain, quoting so many students at this school and stepping away from him. "You don't want me to ruin you when you just got here."

**_'Don't pretend you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart. This cruel world of high school has forced you to put self-preservation first.'_**

I ignore Gloomy (I have to stop that) this time. If this guy isn't really a fake (which I'm honestly not sure about), I don't want to drag him down with me. Or am I selfish enough to do that? But if he _is _a fake, then I'm just gonna get hurt. God, my thoughts are all over the place.

Jack blinks, surprised, before frowning. "What? No, you're not… what are you talking about? You seem perfectly normal to me, if not—" He gestures around the clearing. "—more than a little creative."

I laugh hollowly, fighting the burning sensation that signals oncoming tears. "This? This is just my outlet. I am _nothing_ without my art. Heck, I'm nothing _with_ my art." It's true. Sure, I've won a few contests, but that's only because my art teacher pushed me into entering. And if Jack looked a little closer at any of this, minus the origami and the photos, he might notice the underlying misery. Even in the drawing of Rudy; his face is tense and sad and weary all at the same time, his posture isn't sturdy, and his shoulders are drooping. It's why I've never showed it to the man himself.

Jack steps forward and reaches for me just as the first tear falls, as if to comfort me or something. "Kim—"

_"I was doing just fine,_  
_'Til you messed with my mind,_  
_Why'd you have to be so, perfect?"_

I move away from him (I've never been good with contact with others) and move towards my phone, which had been set to play iHeartRadio when lunch period was over. I grab it, my tray, and my other things, hating how appropriate the song is for right now. I wipe at my face and erase any excuse for Lindsey or the Black Dragons to make fun of me more than they usually do. "Look, Jack, it was nice meeting you and all, but if you care about yourself at all then you'll just forget about me. The bell's going to ring in exactly ninety seconds, so I suggest you get moving."

* * *

"We have a new student today, you guys," Mrs. Erdman says, as she opens the door for an all-too-familiar brown-eyed brunet.

_**'Crap.'**_

"Class, meet Jackson Brewer. Wow, you look _exactly_ like a student I taught back when I was in Chicago," the blonde teacher muses. "Well, let's hope this class doesn't scar you for life like they did our last new student! Look at her." She gestures (with quite a flourish) in my direction, and I slide down into my chair. Surprise registers on Jack's face when he sees me, and then something else I can't identify. "Look how she turned out!" She turns to the class. "Class, don't screw this one up. We can't return him."

She smiles at me, winking in an exaggerated manner and letting me and the class know she's kidding. If only she knew how right she is.

The introduction does its job, which was to make the new student feel comfortable. It's just because Mrs. Erdman's nice like that.

"Jack, is just fine, 'mam. Thanks for the welcome." He turns to the class. "You guys listen to her. My old school doesn't take refunds."

That gets a laugh out of everyone (and an [unwilling] smile out of me), and he grins in a 'hey-this-class-might-not-be-so-bad' way. Curse him for being so charming.

"Ok, Jack, why don't you go sit next to Kim? She looks a bit lonely back there."

**_'Double crap.'_**

* * *

The next day, I'm back at the clearing with an untouched lunch and a scowl on my face. I was hoping that I would never have to see Jack again besides passing by him in the hallway (which is unavoidable), but, lo and behold, he's in every single one of my classes except two.

Great.

Weirdly enough, he hasn't said anything about my little outburst yesterday. In Language Arts, all he did was ask me a couple of questions about the assignment. I hope it stays that way, though Jack doesn't seem like one who would just let something like that go.

He tried to talk to me right before lunch period, but Lindsey came after him again. It's like she's completely forgotten about Frank and has decided to move onto this fresh meat, which sucks because now she has two 'reasons' to hate me. Well, it was the one time I've ever been grateful for something she did. It gave me a chance to escape from Jack.

Though, if he has any common sense, he'll probably try to come back and see if I'm here. That's what I would do. I suppose I could go to the library to avoid him, but I don't like the atmosphere of that place. It's the complete opposite of the cafeteria; it's too quiet. Out here, there is just enough sound to symbolize life.

**_'Wait, why are thinking about leaving? How many times do I have to say that this is your place! You should make _him_ leave.'_**

_'He hasn't even gotten here yet and you're thinking about making him leave. Am I the only one that sees something wrong with that?'_

Frustrated, I tell both of them to shut up and crawl into my little nook. I realize I can just hide in here until he goes away; unless you come to the side of the knee in front of the hole, it's virtually impossible to tell that it's even here. So, I do just that.

…ugh. Why is this guy taking over so much of my brain? Maybe he got some sort of eye surgery that he helps him hypnotize girls with invisible eye lasers. Yeah. That's it. And he'll get them to fall for him by just looking at his eyes. And every single time eye contact is established, the girl falls deeper. That's gotta be it. Maybe I could get him a pair of permanent sunglasses that never come off. Ever.

_**'I hope you realize how utterly ridiculous that was.'**_

I do. I just won't admit it. But what if…?

"Kim?"

My heart stops. And then it resumes again, pounding as if it wanted to escape prison that is my rib cage. I would probably let it if I could. Then I could die and I wouldn't have to deal with this mess.

It's him.

I bite my lip and put in my headphones, starting my music to distract myself.

_"He was a boy,_  
_She was a girl,_  
_Could I make it anymore obvious?"_

Ok, distraction isn't distracting enough.

Frustration (once again) takes over, and I angrily rip the headphones off. I realize that Jack is talking, and I pause to listen to what he's saying.

"… just met the girl and you ruined it," he's muttering. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

Is he… _berating_ himself?

"You just _had_ to be a freaking creeper and follow her to a place that is obviously very personal. Freaking weirdo. Why didn't just talk to her in between classes or something, like a normal person? You probably screwed up any chance you had. Nice going."

I blink, not exactly sure what to make of this.

**_'Don't assume anything. He might be disappointed that he didn't get to mess with you.'_**

_'Really? That's not what it sounds like!'_

Not exactly sure what to make of the whole situation, I slowly slide out of my little nook. Jack has his back turned so he doesn't notice me when I come out. He continues to rant to himself, and I watch and listen curiously.

"…maybe you _deserve_ to be alone. After all, you did cause Dad's accident," he says bitterly.

Whoa. This just got a little personal. The self-resentment in his voice is practically tangible. Hearing someone else bring themself down is different from doing it to myself. It's… I dunno, _wrong _if they don't deserve it. He was just being friendly. I'm the one pushing him away.

**_'Did you just say he didn't deserve it? Really? What the heck is wrong with you?!'_**

_'Oh, come on. No guy is going to punish himself this severely for losing a girl if he was just going to screw with her. Did you not hear the comment about him being alone?'_

Should I announce my presence? I don't know. Maybe… maybe he does actually wanna get to know me. I dunno. I've never had a guy interested in me before. And I'm sure I can back out anytime; a few harsh words from me can send anyone running.

"You're karma's little bitch now—"

"I'm sure karma has enough bitches."

He whirls around, and it's only a reflexive bend backwards that keeps me from getting nailed in the face. Even so, his fingertips brush the tip of my nose. I'm momentarily stunned by the raw pain spelled out on his features. He has the expression of a puppy that's just been abused and hurt. Puppy… The metaphorical tail is there once again, only this time it's stiff and comes with flattened ears on his head.

"Whoa, Kim, where did you—"

"Doesn't matter," I respond offhandedly. "Why are you doing this to yourself? All I did was tell you to stay away from me, unless you want to be known as 'the other freak."

He frowns. "How much did you hear just now?" he asks, avoiding the question.

"Enough," I respond, dodging his question just like he did mine. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Silence. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "…can we just start over?"

I frown. "Start over?"

"Yeah. Just… pretend we've never met?"

**_'Now's your chance! Break his heart before he can break yours!'_**

_'No, don't! He really wants to have a chance with you! You can finally feel loved again…'_

That got me. Since my parents got divorced, I've been living with the bitch that the law calls my mother. She and my dad have been fighting for custody over me, and I really want to go live with him, but he's fighting a losing battle. My mother is a lawyer, a good one at that, and she's doing all sorts of manipulative crap to make my dad look bad. Mom and I moved away from our old house in Tennessee, and there's no way for him to know where we are now.

No matter how good she looks on the outside, she is a horrible person on the inside. She drinks every night. She tortures me mentally (and physically sometimes) and claims that she only wants to keep me because she doesn't want my dad to win. She doesn't love me.

Some mom, huh?

I'm starting to think that not even my _dad _loves me, now that I think about it. He hasn't responded to any of my attempts to contact him in years now. Maybe he just gave up.

The thought kills me inside.

The last person that showed me some form of fondness (besides my dad) was Brody. What if… what if Jack can do that?

Ugh. Curse our species and our primal need for affection.

"Fine," I say softly. "We can… start over."

_'Yes!'_

**_'No!'_**

He lets out a breath that neither of us realized he was holding. He smiles and it reaches those horribly alluring eyes of his, and the ears go up and the tail starts wagging and—

"Hi. I'm Jack." He sticks out his hand for me to shake.

I stare at it for a second, before accepting it. "Kim."

* * *

_"You're a fugly ass piece of crap."_

_"I hope you die a slow, painful, lonely death."_

_"No one is proud of you."  
_

_"Your mother is disappointed she ever shat you out."_

_"Do us all a favor and go jump off a cliff."_

_"What the heck is wrong with you?"_

_"I would beat you up, but that's animal abuse."_

Every. Single. Day.

The notes are everywhere; in my locker, in my books, in my bookbag. I can't get away from them. They haunt me everywhere I go, within school grounds or not.

It's been about five months since Jack and I "started over." Our friendship is great, I guess; I've never really had a friend to compare him to. It turns out that he's into karate just as much as I am, and we and three other guys named Eddie, Jerry, and Milton all go there after school. I never really talked to them three before Jack got here, but it's like he's the bridge between me and them. I talk to them, have actual _conversations_, and they're actually pretty cool, even if we don't hang out at school.

Jack is actual _competition. _Before he came to the dojo, I was the only black belt, while the other guys were at their greens and yellows or whatever it is they're at. It feels good to be challenged.

But what doesn't feel good are the notes. They started arriving around a couple of months ago. I think Lindsey's recruited some sort of professional insult writer, because these are so creative that there's no way she could have thought them up herself. All of them are some sort of derogatory remarks about what a horrible person I am.

I'm starting to think they're right.

I feel lonelier than I've ever been, even with Jack and possibly the guys (referring to Eddie, Milton, and Jerry.) as 'friends'. Even Gloomy and Happy have left me alone. How pathetic is that? My own brain has abandoned me.

It seems that everyone hates me anyways.

Why do they want me to die?

What have I ever done to them?

_Why?!_

"Why what?" Eddie asks curiously, making me realize that I had asked the last question aloud. I look at him; Eddie, with seemingly no worries (except for mild pressure from his mom urging him to go to some dance academy). Eddie, who's pretty much friends with everyone because of his lovable nature. Eddie.

I envy him.

"Why… is the sky blue?" I respond, internally wincing at the way my voice rises up towards the end of the sentence. I never have been good at lying. I notice that Milton, Jerry, and Jack are looking at me, too. I must have been pretty loud. I hope they didn't hear anything else. I look down at the bench I'm straddling and pick at the metal.

"Why _is_ the sky blue?" Jerry asks. "I've always wondered that. Why couldn't it be like, green or something?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Milton says, smiling. "The sky gets it blue color from—"

I tune out of the conversation then, not really caring for a ten minute long lesson on the color of the sky. I start to drown in my thoughts again. Why do some people revel so much in hurting others? I know that some people were bullied as kids and it's their way of getting revenge, but… why? You know how it feels. You know how much it hurt. So why would you wish that on someone else? I don't understand.

"Kim?"

Again, my brooding is interrupted. I look up at a concerned face, but then I look away. God, what is wrong with him?! Why do his eyes have to be so… _alluring_? I think I'm growing an immunity to them, though. I can actually make eye contact for a couple of seconds now, without getting drawn in _too _much.

It should be illegal to have eyes like that.

"Yeah?" I respond, while still thinking about the legality of his eyes but not looking up at them

"Kim, look at me."

I do so, reluctantly, but focus on an eyebrow.

"What's wrong? You're a really bad liar you know," he responds. He briefly smirks before his expression turns serious.

"If I'm such a bad liar, then why did the guys believe me?" I ask, before mentally kicking myself. I think I just confirmed that I was lying.

"So you admit that you were lying?"

"I admit nothing."

He frowns, mirroring the way I'm sitting down and straddling the bench as well. My breath hitches in my throat as he grabs my hand. "Kim…" I stare at the two hands enveloping my one.

He catches my reaction and quickly lets go of me, face burning and looking sheepish. I immediately feel the absence of the warmth of his hands.

"Sorry. Look, Kim. You've been… off, for a couple of months now. I mean like…" He struggles to find the words. "I don't know, sad? What's going on?"

"Nothing, Jack. I don't know what you're talking about." I don't know how to feel about this. I honestly think I'm panicking. No one has ever known me well enough to be able to tell when I'm acting weird.

Except maybe Brody.

My mood sours even further at the thought of him. The door in my heart that might have been opening to Jack immediately slams shut, locks, and then padlocks itself. I'm not letting anyone in anytime soon.

_'But you said you'd 'start over. This doesn't look like 'starting over'.'_

_'You finally decide to join me again?'_

_'__Only briefly.'_

"Are you sure—"

"Just leave me alone, Jack."

His mouth purses, and I can tell he feels hurt. "I… ok."

_'SAY SOMETHING! Meanwhile, I can work on picking that stupid metaphorical lock of yours… '_

I feel guilty. The padlock on the door to my heart falls to the ground at the sight of him. I think of that day, back in my clearing, after Jack had appeared; of the look of raw emotion on his face, and the way he was talking about himself. I think he's just as lonely as I am, even if he seems like a really nice and outgoing person. Anyone can put up a front to hide their pain; why should Jack be any different?

And… wait, what did Happy say? Ugh, stupid emotion influencing my way of thinking.

He gets up to walk away.

"Wait."

He stops and turns back to me. "What? Don't you want me to leave you alone?" He doesn't sound exactly bitter, as i thought he would, just… sad.

I hesitate. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just…"

"I get it if you don't want to tell me." He smiles softly. "Just know that I'm here for ya, ok?"

I… wait, am I smiling _back_? "Ok."

He walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

_'I'm surprised I haven't heard from Gloomy yet.'_

_'Oh. Her. Yeah, I took care of her.'_

_'… '_

* * *

I hear their laughter fade as they drive off in their cars, leaving me bruised and battered against the side of some random building.

I curl up into a ball and start sobbing.

Fucking Black Dragons.

Every single one of them was here to gang up on me.

I'm hurting so much.

And it's cold out.

It's so freaking cold.

I can't feel anything, and I can feel everything.

All at the same time.

Someone's calling my name.

I start to panic.

Is it them?

It _can't _be them.

Do they want to kill me?

I can just hear them now.

Taunting.

Laughing.

Hurting.

Someone touches my arm, _my hand_.

I scream and cry and fight and beg.

They grab my arms and I scream louder.

Then everything starts to go black, and I'm still begging.

_Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorrysorrysorrysorrysorry_

* * *

The Latino swears as the injured blonde girl goes limp in his arms. He has no idea what to do to help her. Should he try to wake her? Should he let her stay unconscious?

Jerry wishes that Milton had found Kim instead of himself. The redhead would definitely know exactly what to do.

He was just out taking a short walk to some place that really wasn't that important when he heard a girl sobbing. Being the guy that he is, he went to investigate and found Kim. The normally quiet blonde was crying her heart out. He had called her name and touched her arm, and she had freaked out. He had barely dodged her flying fists. He had gently restrained her and she screamed louder, babbling out an apology over and over again. It makes him wonder exactly what happened to her.

The teen gently cradled the other and adjusted her so that he was leaning against his chest. He took in her appearance; torn clothes, a bleeding and bruised figure, and her fair hair was now dirty and streaked with blood. '_Who did this to her?' _he thinks.

_'Who would want to hurt Kim?'_

Jerry has to admit, the girl could be a little off-putting at times. The glares she directed his way whenever he hit on her was enough to make him wanna pee himself. He thinks he did at one point. But other times, when she wasn't glaring at him, Kim was actually a pretty cool chick. She could be friendly when she wanted to, has a funny habit of yelling out exclamations about dynamite whenever she got excited about something, and could kick anyone's butt. Anyone, except maybe Jack.

Jack. Jerry supposes he should call the teen. The shaggy haired brunet seems to care a lot about the blonde. And even though Jerry is't normally very observant of things that don't concern him, he can clearly see the chemistry between them. He can also see that Kim doesn't want to face her feelings towards Jack. He has a feeling that she was going to slip up at some point. Or maybe it would be Jack. It was just a matter of time.

Jerry should probably call now.

* * *

Jack was there within ten minutes. By the time he got there, Jerry had also called 911 and Rudy. Both were on their way.

The teen's heart stops when he turns around the corner and sees the blonde in his Latino friend's arms. He didn't want to believe what he was hearing when Jerry called him. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jerry was making the situation sound worse than it was; that Kim was fine, with only the most minor of injuries. But oh, how wrong he was. He slowly approaches the two.

"What… happened?" he whispers, kneeling down next to the two. He gently moves a stray lock of blood-streaked hair out of Kim's angelic face.

"I don't know," Jerry responds lowly. "I found her crying. She freaked out when I tried to calm her down and then she passed out."

Jack falls silent, simply staring. She looks so… _tortured_. Even in unconsciousness. Aren't you supposed to be at peace when you're unconscious? Because you're not dreaming, or having a nightmare. Everything is just… dark. He would know. But then again, who wouldn't be tortured after going through whatever she had gone through? He grabs the girl's left hand, frowning when he notices that it's wet.

Blood.

His eyes widen, and beside him he hears Jerry's breath escape with a _whoosh. _Jack gingerly holds the limb and examines it. Two letters are carved into the soft flesh of the back of her hand: _BD. _Black Dragons.

Jack's expression darkens. He knows about the dojo that Kim used to attend; she had told him about it. They're good at karate, but really annoying, especially their sensei Ty. He and Rudy had some sort of bad blood going on between them for some reason. The Black Dragons always willing to give the Wasabi Warriors are hard time. But he had no idea that they were capable of… of… _this._

He'll tear them apart with his bare hands. How dare they even _think _about hurting his precious Kim, let alone actually going through with it?! He's going to hunt down every single one of them and—

"Jack… I think you might be hurting her…"

Jerry's words make the teen stop short. He realizes that he's holding the girl's wrist in a vice-like grip that would have made her wince if she was conscious. He loosens his hold, mentally apologizing.

"The Black Dragons did this," he snarls quietly as the wailing sound of an ambulance siren is faintly heard in the distance.

"_What?!_" Jerry exclaims, before growling. "How do you know? As much as I hate to say it, she could have just been randomly attacked."

Jack shows his friend the letters on the blonde's hand. "Plus, she's a black belt in karate. She would have been able to scare off some random attacker. The Black Dragons… they know her."

Jerry stares at his friend as the brunet gently strokes Kim's hair. He could definitely see the more-than-friends affection that's being expressed in the gesture. With a resolute nod to himself, he gently hands her off to Jack. The teen looks at him, confused.

"I wanna go flag down the ambulance," the Latino explains, standing up. "And if she wakes up, I'd rather it be you than me that she sees first thing."

Jerry walks off around the corner and towards the mouth of the alleyway before Jack can say anything. The shaggy-haired teen stares off after his friend for a second, before shifting so that he's leaning against the wall and Kim's head is resting against his collarbone.

He's never going to let this happen ever again. He'll watch over Kim and be her guardian. He can't let someone else he (possibly?) loves get hurt because of him. His father is the perfect example. If he hadn't had a fight with the man over something as trivial as taking out the trash, then his dad wouldn't have gone for a drive to cool his head, then he wouldn't have gotten hit by a drunk driver and died. It's all Jack's fault that his father is dead. He's not going to let the same thing happen to Kim.

He'll crush the Black Dragons.

A quiet whimper brings him out of his reverie, and two hands weakly push against his chest.

"Don't… please…"

"Kim? Kim, it's me. It's Jack. I'm not going to hurt you."

Even with the comforting words, the girl wriggles out of his grasp and backs away while wincing from her injuries. The fear in her eyes unsettles Jack, and he hopes that he can convince her that he means her no harm.

"I'm sorry…" she responds, tears coming to her glazed eyes. The impulse to wipe them away overwhelms the brunet. "I know I'm worthless without ya'll… just please leave me alone…" She doesn't seem to realize that it's him.

"…You're not worthless, Kim," Jack says softly, taking a moment to compose himself before replying. For a second there he saw red. How _dare _they tell Kim that she's worthless?! He slowly approaches her. She backs into the wall behind her. She whimpers when she realizes she doesn't have an escape, bringing her legs close to her body and hiding her face in her arms.

Jack reaches her side. She winces as his hand makes contact, but all he does is gently move her arm away and cup her cheek and wipe her tears away with the pad of his thumb. The one eye that Jack can see widens at the soft gesture. Encouraged by the fact that she's no longer recoiling from him, he moves her other arm and does the same to her opposite cheek. He kisses her forehead as she lifts her head. Her eyes widen and clear.

"…J-Jack?" she finally whispers.

"Yeah," he responds. "Yeah, it's me."

She makes another questioning sound, still seeming fearful. He gently presses his lips to her forehead again. "It's all right, Kimmy. I'm not going to let them hurt you again."

She leans into him and sobs, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. He holds her close to him and lets her cry into his chest, looking up as Jerry and a couple of paramedics with a stretcher come around the corner.

* * *

Over the course of the next week, every single one of the twenty members of the Black Dragons dojo (including the sensei) ended up in the hospital with various injuries. They all reported that they "fell down the stairs," and seemed very shaken.

The sensei had also paid the hospital bill of a certain blonde teenage girl that had been admitted the week before.

* * *

"Hey, Kim, I thought I would wai— What's wrong?"

Crap. Jack had been waiting for me outside of the locker rooms. I didn't have enough time to wipe the tears off my face. He had kept a lot closer to me since… the alley… a couple of weeks ago, but I think it has to do with the "not letting them hurt you anymore" thing, which is weird because he seemed to be making some sort of commitment to protect me… but why? I'm not worth it.

"You're crying," he says softly. As if I didn't know that. He steps closer and I look down at the ground. I never realized how interesting my feet are…

"What's that in your hand?"

Too late, I realize that I'm holding my latest note. It's something about how no one will care when I die. The Black Dragons had left me alone for a long while after the alley, but that didn't stop the other students that still worship them from hiding the incriminating notes within my belongings.

Strangely enough, all of the Black Dragons had apparently fallen down this really long flight of stairs and ended up in the hospital as well. Speaking of the hospital, I don't understand why Jack and Jerry called the ambulance. I mean, yeah, it was nice, but so what? If I died or something, it's not like anyone would have cared. Not even my dad. He's really possessive over things; he probably just doesn't want to let go of me, because I "belong" to him, and that's why he's fighting for custody over me. If I died, he'd probably just be happy that my mom can't have me.

The Black Dragons' attack helped me realize some things.

"Nothing," I finally say, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.

I can _feel _him raise a disbelieving eyebrow. "Really? Then you wouldn't mind if I take a look at it?"

I hear the sound of paper crinkling, and I suddenly realize that he had gotten the paper out of my grasp somehow without me noticing. What the heck?! We can just add "taking notes without the person noticing" to his list of superhuman qualities/abilities. His eyes are number one on that list, by the way.

"That's kinda rude, you know," I mumble under my breath. He doesn't hear me.

"Kim… who wrote this?!" he asks angrily. I look at him sadly. He's already believing what it says. He's probably mad at himself for not realizing it sooner.

Why am I not surprised? I've finally grown attached to the guy and _that's _when he decides to realize exactly what I am. Just great. But that's just how it is with me isn't it? Something will worm its way into my heart, and then rip a piece out when it finally leaves. Jack owns the rest of my heart, as much as I fought to keep that from happening. And now I've lost him, too…

"Does it really matter who wrote it when it's true?" I ask softly, furiously wiping the rapidly growing moisture off of my face; I'm so pathetic. I sigh, looking down at my feet again. I don't want to see the disgust in his eyes, directed at _me. _"Look, thanks for being nice to me, Jack, but you can quit the act. You and I both know I'm not worth a crap so—"

It takes me completely by surprise when he kisses me. One moment I'm rambling, and the next he's gently tilting my chin up and capturing my lips with his. He cups my cheeks and slides his hands under the long curtain of my hair, and I'm too shocked to even wince at the fact that he was touching a spot on my cheek that's still sore.

And then suddenly, just as abruptly as it started, it ends. He moves away, but is still close enough that our foreheads are touching and that his warm breath fans over my lips as he speaks.

"Don't _ever _talk about yourself that way _ever _again, Kimmy," he says in a voice so dark that it kind of scares me a little bit.

Wait… rewind…

HOLY CRAP. HE JUST KISSED ME.

My mind goes blank save for that one thought. He just. Freaking. _Kissed _me.

What am I supposed to think about that? You normally kiss someone when you _like _them but how can he possibly like me? WHAT THE FRIGGIN FRICK. It doesn't make sense. Is he being cruel? Because that's just wrong. He must know that I may or may not have the teensiest of crushes on him and is making fun of me. That is so not cool.

Then again, Brody was the exact same way.

But you could also kiss someone to shut them up. Again, that kinda goes along with actually _liking _the person because you're not going to kiss the annoying girl that sits next to you in third period just to shut her up. Because that's weird. And she might take it the wrong way. Screaming at her does the job nicely.

So… what do I conclude from this?

I have no freaking idea.

"…im. Ki-im. Please answer me? Kiiiiiim. Kimmy? Kit-Kat."

I realize that he'd released my face and is now trying to get my attention. His hand is rapidly waving back and forth in front of my eyes. Huh. I wonder how long that's been going on.

"…you just…"

He puts his hand down and smiles briefly. "You're okay!" Than he backs away a little bit, looking sheepish and running a hand through his hair. "Oh. Yeah…"

If this isn't THE most cringe-worthy awkward moment in the history of my life, then I don't know what is.

"Why?"

He hesitates, then steps forward again. "Because… I really like you?"

This does not compute.

"What? How can you…"

"I don't know… This is the part where I come up with a really big speech and profess my love for you, but I honestly I have no idea. How do you explain why you love someone?"

"… you're either nuts or cruel. How can you—"

"WOULD YOU STOP QUESTIONING HIS INTEGRITY AND KISS THE GUY ALREADY?!"

Jack and I whirl around to see Rudy, Jerry, and Eddie all clamping their hands over Milton's mouth.

"What the—" Jack starts to say.

"Oh, don't worry about us," Rudy says dismissively. "Just continue? This is better than _The Notebook."_

* * *

Rudy thought a _normal_ human's face couldn't get redder than the redness of a stop sign, a tomato, and a fire truck combined, let alone the two teenagers standing in front of him

He was wrong.

* * *

So. I'm back to avoiding Jack again, just like the day after we met months ago.

I've actually been pretty successful. Well, as successful as you can get to avoiding a guy who has all but two of your classes with you. I just make sure to a) get in class as late as possible without _actually _being late, b) leave class right as the bell is ringing, c) hide in my nook whenever I'm at the clearing, and d) hide out in the girl's locker room at the dojo until it's safe to come out.

And though I haven't actually interacted with Jack for about a week now, my brain has been practically invaded by thoughts of him.

Twenty-four seven.

I'm in some sort of unavoidable standstill; I'm keeping away from him so I don't get hurt, but I think I'll get hurt anyways _by _keeping away from him.

It all comes down to fear.

_'Ok. So let's make a list of why you should and shouldn't let Jack in.'_

_'No, that… actually, that's not a bad idea.'_

My end product was the following:

**Should**  
-He defended you from Lindsay  
-He's immune to Lindsay (?)  
-He followed you into the clearing  
-He chastised himself for "losing his chance" with you  
-He held you in the alleyway  
-He could go for so much better  
-He's into karate  
-It's possible to avoid him  
-He cares (?)  
-He stopped you from telling the truth about yourself because he thinks it _isn't_ true (?)  
-He kissed you (Though it might have been an early emergency CPR because if you kept talking you probably would have run out of breath and died)  
-His eyes are legal  
-SINCERITY?  
-You think you love him

**Shouldn't  
**-He followed you into the clearing  
-Might be half-canine  
-He has superhuman abilities (does that tie in with "half-canine")  
-You don't want to drag him down (?)  
-He doesn't care and everything is an act (?)  
-He supposedly cares (?)  
-It's possible to avoid him  
-He kissed you  
-He doesn't want to hear the truth about you so he stopped you from talking about yourself (?)  
-He might end up like Brody  
-His eyes should be illegal  
-SINCERITY?  
-You think you love him

I look down at my work with a critical eye. On some points Happy took over (clearly) and others deserved to be on both lists_…_

Should has one more than Shouldn't. What does that mean? It's not that big of a difference. They almost each have the exact same number. So what do I do?

UGH. This didn't solve anything. Or did it? I DON'T FREAKING KNOW.

_'Well__… Should _did _win__…'_

___'Barely.'_

___'So__… you **should **give him a chance. Talk to him. You never know.'_

_____'I never knew with Brody, either.'_

_____'__…'_

* * *

After MUCH mental debate, I decided not to talk to Jack.

_'Noooo, you didn't.'_

___'Meh.'_

_'JUST DO IT! GROW SOME LADY BALLS!'_

_'__…'_

___'Okay, never saying that again. Now, he's outside of the locker rooms. You can hear him talking to the guys. GO!'_

_'No!'_

_'Fine, I'll make you.'_

My feet start moving of their own accord, towards the door leading out of the girls' locker room. Wait, what?! I'm not doing this!

_'Yes, you are. I'm part of YOU, remember?'_

_'Sadly.'_

Left, right, left, right, push door open, left, right, left, right.

There. Jack is right there. I don't wanna do this. Should I do this? What is 'this' anyway? I'm just talking to him about… where we stand.

_'I'll tell you where _he's _standing. RIGHT THERE!'_

He's standing riiiiiiiiiight over there. All I have to do is just mosey on over there and_… _who still says mosey? Apparently I do.

Ok, I'm backing out.

Before I can, he turns around. It's like he _sensed _that I was there. The expression on his face changed from a small smile to a hopeful puppy dog look and GOD HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO THAT?!_  
_

"Jack, can we… talk?"

"Yes!" he says eagerly, before seeming to check himself. He relaxes from his overeager position, crossing his arms and giving me a nod. "I mean… sure." I roll my eyes. Guys. He starts to walk over, and the guys and Rudy follow.

"ALONE," I specify, glaring at the three teens and grown man. Or should I say three teens and manchild/the most hyperactive person I know/sensei/possibly in need of rehab person/?.

They make dejected noises and go back to doing whatever.

Jack and I walk into the hallway leading to the locker rooms. Remembering our "audience" from last time we stood in this spot, I grab his wrist and drag him into the girls' locker room. I walk around him and close (and lock) the door behind him.

When I turn to him, he's looking around with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. With a raised eyebrow, I briefly compare him to the painting _The Scream. _

"What are you looking at?"

"It's so… _clean _in here!"

At the same time, he and I notice one of my bras carelessly thrown over a bench. I start to walk over to pick it up, cheeks burning, but then I think _'What's the point? It's a bra. I'm a girl. Get over it.'_

Of course Happy, mortified, commands me to go and pick it up. I do so and open my locker and notice the piece of paper lying on top of the random stuff within the small storage unit.

I ignore it and slam the locker shut.

I turn and find him fidgeting, with his hands, head bent and hair covering his expression. I clear my throat awkwardly. His head snaps up to look at me, and he does a weird little head shake to get his hair out of his eyes. _  
_

"Jack—"

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out," he blurts. I blink, and he barrels on, as if someone had broken down a dam and the flow of words were just pouring out. "I shouldn't have just kissed you out of nowhere like that but—"

"Jack—"

"—I dunno, I _really _like you Kim. I think I have ever since you threw that branch at me and even if that sounds really cliche—"

"_Jack—"_

"—it's the truth and I'm just asking you to _please _give me a chance—"

_'I would if you let me talk,' _I think, finally just resorting clamping my hand over his mouth after three more unsuccessful attempts to shut him up. He looks at me with those scared puppy dog eyes and I may or may not have to stop myself from cooing.

"Jack."

"Mmm?"

"Shut up."

I remove my hand from his mouth. His expression turns into that of a _kicked _puppy.

_'If you two ever have kids and they inherit that look, you're so screwed.'_

Mortified, I envision myself throwing shoving the voice into an episode of "Happy Tree Friends" and turn my back when it starts screaming.

"Jack…" I take a deep breath. "Ok. You have your chance."

"What?"

"Right now. Woo me." I internally wince as soon as the sentence comes out of my mouth. "Convince me that I should let you in. Because honestly, you are the most infuriatingly perplexing person in my life, and I can't tell what your intentions are."

He pauses for a moment (probably puzzling over the word "perplexing") before reaching and grabbing my left hand; the scarred one. My heart jumps into my throat as I remember the night I got it, a week ago; their words come back with a rush, over lapping with each over within my head. My body aches from the ghosts of kicks and punches, and my bottom lip starts to tremble a little bit from the threat of oncoming tears.

"There," Jack says softly, causing me to focus on him again. He stares into my eyes, and I have a feeling that I wouldn't be able to look away even if I tried. Which I don't. "That place you're going to in your head right now? I'm going to protect you from that. I'm not going to let them bar you from happiness ever again. _That's_ my intention. Your happiness. Even if, after all this, we're just friends."

Happiness. It's such a foreign concept to me, even with the annoying voice in my head of the emotion's namesake. I guess I feel happy whenever I'm drawing, or listening to my favorite music… but that's really more contentment than it is happiness.

I look at him. Like, _really _look at him. What do I see? Honesty? Deceit? I still have no idea. This isn't some weird romance story where the characters can see thousands of emotions that seem to be hidden in other characters' retinas. This is real life. But… I think I'm willing to find out.

With a sigh, my resolve breaks. I step forward and lean into him, resting my forehead on his chest. He brings his arms up and envelopes me in a firm hug, kissing my hair before putting his chin on my head.

Maybe… maybe this whole thing won't be so bad.

* * *

"Hey, shouldn't we be going to the dojo?" I ask Jack, noticing he's driven past the mall where the dojo is. It's the summer before junior year, (yep. That's right. I survived. Just two more years to go. Ugh.) and Jack and I are… ok. I really don't know if we're "together." We could pass off as really close best friends as well.

I haven't even seen any sign of Lindsey and the other Black Dragons all summer. I have a sneaking suspicion that Jack has something to do with that.

"Oh… um…" He purses his lips, thinking.

Is he trying to give me an excuse?

"Rudy's toilet is remodeling. Wait, no, that came out wrong. Rudy's remodeling his toilet. Urg, that sounds even weirder…"

I think that's my answer. "Are you trying to blow off practice?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Whaaaaat?" he asks, his voice comically rising to a tone that no guy's voice should ever really reach. "No. We just…"

"We're blowing off practice," I deadpan. "Why?"

"We're not blowing it off, just… wind-ing it to another time."

"Wind-ing? Like, in blowing wind?" I am going to get to the bottom of this. He's keeping something from me.

"Yeah."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"If wind-ing doesn't make sense, then how does blowing make sense?"

"_That _makes sense because— Don't change the subject!"

"I didn't."

"Yes you did! Jack, just tell me why we're not going to the dojo."

He frowns, then smiles again as if he can't keep the somber expression on his face for long. "It's a secret."

I stare at him. "… a secret."

"Yeah."

"Mind telling me this secret?"

"If I tell you, then what's the point of it being a secret? Secrets are supposed to stay secret to be secret."

"But secrets are meant to be told eventually."

"In this case, yes… look, don't turn me into the worst distraction ever, okay? I'm supposed to keep you away from the dojo while certain arrangements are being made."

"Distraction."

"Yes. That is my role at the moment."

I huff in annoyance, and the sudden wind briefly blows my bangs out of my eyes. Speaking of bangs, I really need to get them cut or something…

Jack's phone blares out the opening lines of _"I Like to Move It," _from within the depths of his hoodie, signaling a text. My only guess is that it's from Jerry, because I can't imagine who else he would reserve that song for. Before he can move to retrieve the device, I reach into his pocket and grab the phone.

"Don't text and drive, Jack," I say when he starts to protest, smirking and looking at his phone. I catch _"DancingMonkey: We're ready," _at the top of the screen on the status bar before it disappears, but then my smirk falters.

His lock screen is a picture of me.

We were at the clearing ("our" clearing, as he now likes to call it), judging from the background. I was sitting and leaning against a tree, with my sketchpad on my lap and mechanical pencil in hand. The white cord of one of my earbuds can be seen snaking its way up my side and up to my ear. I had clearly been drawing, but I guess I decided to take a break or something because I had leaned my head against the tree behind me with my eyes closed and a small smile on my face. The sun wasn't in the picture, but sunlight had found its way through the leaves of the tree above me and shone in tiny little spots on my face. I actually looked… _peaceful._

"I… you weren't supposed to see that," he says sheepishly, snatching the phone from my hand. I look over at him.

"Your lock screen… when did you take that?" I ask softly.

"…before school ended," he responds.

I guess I should be flattered. Out of all the things he could have had there, he chose _me _as his lock screen.

Me.

I feel my face heat up. I bend my head and fidget with my fingers, intentionally letting my hair fall to cover my expression. "He says they're ready," I mumble.

"'Kay," he says, and he pulls into a gas station to turn around.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," Jack says, hurrying to catch up with me as I walk into the mall. We've gotten past the awkward moment in the car, and we're at the mall (clearly). I'm still not sure what to think about his lock screen, but… meh. I dunno.

I pause and turn around, noticing the strip of black fabric that he'd taken out of his pocket. I take a half-wary step back. "What's that for?"

"It's a blindfold," he responds.

I stare at him.

He laughs. "What, you don't trust me?"

"No," I deadpan. The last time I'd let the guys blindfold me, I ended up walking into a fountain at a nearby park. And I was wearing a white t-shirt. With only my bra underneath. I'm not sure what was more shocking, the cold water or hearing Jack threaten to beat up a nearby guy who had wolf-whistled at me. Either way, I've been wary around them and "surprises" ever since.

"Sorry about that…" he says, clearly sensing where my mind is going. "But you're not going to walk into anything this time, I promise."

"…"

"Come on. It's me we're talking about. Jerry was the one that was guiding you last time."

"True…" I murmur. He steps forward, holding up the blindfold hopefully. I sigh and turn around, immediately tensing as soon as the world goes dark. I try to squint to see through the fabric, but whatever it is is extremely thick. I decide to close my eyes, because having them open and not seeing anything is a bit unnerving.

"You see anything?"

"Nope. Sadly."

"Good. Okay, I'm gonna grab your hand to guide you to the dojo, okay?"

"…okay," I say, fighting a blush as his warm hand envelopes mine.

We walk for a little bit, taking the path (that I know by heart) to the dojo. He briefly lets go of my hand to open the door, and then pulls me in.

"Okay… you can take off the blindfold now."

I gratefully remove the black fabric from my eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIM!"

I blink in surprise as multiple confetti cannons go off. The whole dojo is decked out in various shades of turquoise, my favorite color, from streamers to banners to all sorts of party decorations. There are bubbles everywhere, suggesting that there's a bubble machine in some hidden corner. In the middle of the mats is a table sporting a huge cake (that must have been a pain to get through the doors). Sitting next to it on the table is a silver and turquoise colored tiara. Standing around the table are the guys, Rudy, Joan, Phil, and a girl named Sloane that the guys and I met earlier in the summer. In the corner where the dummies and bo staffs normally are is a pile of presents.

What?

"I don't understand…" I whisper, struggling to take it all in. A birthday party? It's not even my birthday… is it? I really don't keep track anymore, since I haven't celebrated it since I was like, nine. What's there to celebrate about another year of my life?

"What's there to understand?" Jack asks, grinning as he stands next to me. "It's August 7th. Your _birthday."_ He pauses, then adds "Well, your birthday was two days ago. This is just the party." He frowns. "Why didn't you tell us? We never would have known if Rudy wasn't digging through his files yesterday."

"I forgot… never really thought it mattered…" I say, as Jerry walks up to me with the tiara in his hands. _'Raise Your Glass' _by P!nk starts playing from some unknown source, and Phil starts doing a weird dance that makes me fear he's having a seizure.

"Of _course _it matters, Kim. And you need to hurry and open your presents, because one of them is on his way, and the last one starts in about three hours…" He grins again as Jerry places the crown on my head.

I stare at him. Then I stare at all of the people in the room. I can't believe it. How could they go through all this trouble? I could have just had another quiet birthday, and everything still would have been fine. But no. They chose to do this.

They… _care _about me.

How do I feel about that? Someone _cares. _Multiple someones, actually. All that crap that they preached to us in elementary school about the "joys of friendship" and how wonderful it is? It's actually true. I have this stupid, warm feeling inside and it's overwhelming. I can't…

"Aw, Kim, don't cry," Jerry says softly. The tone of his voice is comparable to that of a five-year-old near tears. "We thought you'd like it. Is it really that bad?"

"No, you dork," I respond, smiling and lightly punching him in the shoulder as the others come forward. I look at all of them, not even trying to fight the smile that's trying to take over my features. "It's amazing. No one has ever done something like this for me before… thank you guys. So much."

"Aww!" Joan coos. "GROUP HUG!"

I laugh as they surge forward and smother me in a giant hug.

This is so awesome. These people, they love me. They accept me, freak and all. And it's an awesome feeling.

The next thirty minutes are composed of lots of laughter, music, opening presents, and random confetti explosions (the latter is because of Rudy, by the way). Everything is so distracting and in the moment and awesome that I barely notice when he comes in.

I was opening a present from Milton; a book, from the looks of it. I just look up for a second. A split second. And I saw him. He had walked into the dojo and was looking around, hopefully for me.

I can't believe it.

"Daddy?" I whisper, dropping the book and standing up slowly. His eyes land on me in that exact moment, as if he had heard the whispered call. He grins and steps forward, holding his arms out.

I run into them and start sobbing.

"Kimster," he murmurs, kissing my hair and hugging me to him tightly. "God, I missed you so much."

One one hand, I want to scream at him for not even _trying_ to talk to me. On the other hand, I just want to hold onto him and never let go. I decide to do both.

"Why didn't you call me?!" I scream into his shirt. "Or email me! Or text me! _Something._"

"Your did everything she could to keep me from contacting you," he says into my hair, his voice sounding tight. "And she succeeded. God, I tried _so _hard to at least _talk _to you… and I couldn't. She wouldn't let me."

Whatever. I don't even care. Him being here is enough. I never thought I'd be able to see him again, and I'd have to deal with my mom forever. Now, knowing that he did try, everything's all right. For now. He's here. He's _here. _My dad is here with me.

Later, after I've calmed down a bit, Jack, the guys, and Rudy are partaking in a silly improptu 5-way sparring match that has thrown the rules of martial arts out the window. I'm sitting on a bench next to Daddy, with the others surrounding us.

"Daddy?" I ask, stifling a laugh as Rudy flips Milton only to get kicked in the butt (literally) by Eddie.

"Hmm?" he responds, looking down at me.

"How did you get here?" The question's been on my mind for a while now. I can't see how he would have know that I'm in Seaford.

"Your friend Jack figured out a way to contact me, and told me his plans and stuff for this whole thing."

I blink in surprise, looking at the teen in question as Jerry whips out a can of silly string out of nowhere and spraying him with it. How did he do that? And what did Daddy mean by "his plans"?

"His plans?"

"Yeah. He sounded so excited over the phone when he was telling me about it." Daddy smirks, ruffling my hair affectionately. "I approve."

I feel my cheeks burn. "Wh-what?" He approves? Of what? Well, I think I know what…

"He's a good kid, Kimster. He really cares about you."

There it is. I fall silent, looking back at Jack. We make eye contact for a split second, before he gets football-tackled by Milton. He really is special. It's just that whole trust thing that I'm having trouble with.

"Yeah," I say softly. "I know. It's just… I've had trouble letting him get close."

"Ernest Hemingway," he says sagely. "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

I frown. Him and his quotes. He always does that when he feels the situation requires it. I suppose I needed the advice. I had never really thought about it like that before.

"THE CONCERT!" someone suddenly yells. Concert? What concert? Everyone suddenly starts bustling around, doing… whatever.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" my dad exclaims, standing up. He glances at his watch and mutters a curse.

"What concert?" I ask.

"The one that's going to start in 20 minutes," Jerry says, popping up by my side before speeding off to some unknown destination.

Well, _that _was an answer.

"It's a Fall Out Boy concert," Jack says, grabbing my wrist and gently tugging me towards the door. He looks back at me when I stop dead, chuckling when he sees my gaping mouth.

"Fall Out Boy?!" I squeak, barely able to get the words out.

"Yeah," he responds, tugging my wrist again. I follow him, dazed. _FALL OUT BOY?!_ As in, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley?! As in, the band that I had previously thought I would never see in person?! _That_ Fall Out Boy?!

"Yes, _that_ Fall Out Boy," I hear Jack's voice say in an amused tone as he drags me to an old pickup truck that I vaguely recognize as my dad's. I wonder when I started speaking aloud.

"How did you know I liked them?" I ask. I don't exactly let him touch my music, and I don't sing aloud when he's around (I don't think), so how could he possibly know about my all time favorite band?

He looks sheepish, and I await his answer curiously. "…your shirt."

I glance down at my black and grey striped sweater, before looking back up at him and raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No… from when we first met."

I blink, thinking back to that September day from last year. Was that what I was wearing? It's very possible, considering the fact that I have five or six Fall Out Boy clothing pieces of some sort, but I can't remember.

But he can.

"You never cease to surprise me, Jack," I murmur with a small smile that I can't help. He grins as well, and we climb into the car.

* * *

**Screw this. I'm done. I'm just gonna end it right there. After slaving over this stupid oneshot for months now, it's done. To a point. My brain seems to turn the word "oneshot" into "mini-fic that really should be more than one chapter."**

**Ugh. I have a list of what I wanna say on this chapter saved away somewhere… and I have no idea where. Whatever. **

**Oh. I bet if 'Old Habits Die Hard' were a plant, it would be nearly dead by now. I'm so sorry to you guys that are looking forward to that! I thought I could finish this in a week and then go back to OHDH. Fate decided not. Like seriously. Who's ever heard of a 14 thousand word oneshot? If you guys can find one, please tell me. **

**WASABI FOREVER! OMFGDOSINETROPEQHNFMD:SNF**

**All mistakes made are my own. I am too lazy to go back and look over this (how's that for a Ok… there's nothing else that I can think of off the top of my head, so... bye! **

**~BP**


	2. Spy fic First ChapterPreview

**So, I decided to post this just because I wanna see how you guys react to it. You know that spy fic that I've been dropping hints about? This is the first chapter (as of right now; it may be subject to minor or major changes). Tell me what you think! ^v^**

* * *

**Prologue**

**_Unknown location, eight years ago, approx. 11pm_**

The sun had hidden away for the day, letting the full moon take over and bring its nightly reign of darkness along with it. The highway was barren, save for the occasional car. Normally there would be more vehicles about, but many people had let themselves be influenced by the superstition behind the date. The bright full moon in the sky didn't exactly help the 'Friday the 13th' mood either.

A lone, rusty gray car careened down the highway, its small form moving back and forth across the empty lanes. The driver appeared drunk, if his dangerous driving wasn't any indication.

"Slow down, Sam, please!" a plump woman in the passenger seat begged. Her tangled brown hair framed her fearful expression.

The driver ignored her, and instead took another swig from the dark bottle in his free hand. Most of what was meant to go into his mouth spilled onto the yellowed fabric of what might once have been a white shirt. His round potbelly stuck out from beneath the hem.

"Sam! At least stop drinking!" The woman tried to take the bottle from him, but he yanked it out of her grasp and whacked her in the forehead with it. The woman howled in pain and recoiled away from him.

"Yer _my _wife, M'sheel!" the man growled, his intoxicated state causing him to butcher the pronunciation of the woman's name. "You do whu' _I_ say, no' the otha way 'round!"

A whimper was heard in the backseat.

"SHUDDUP!" the man bellowed, turning in his seat to face the two seven-year-olds in the back.

The boy whimpered again, burying his face into his brother's chest. His small form trembled in the arms of the other. The second boy (who had been trying and failing to block out the voices of his parents) glares at the man.

"Don't talk to him like that!" he yelled in response.

Something in the boy's eyes frightened the man. It always had. Whenever he saw the child's intense brown eyes, or the similar ones of his twin, the man sensed something… unnatural. It was why he hated the boys so much. He could never tell them apart, so he despised them both. He hated the fact that he feared two mere seven-year-olds. Even through his drunken haze, he could still feel it there.

The man masked his fear with an expression of anger. "You little—"

"Please, Sam, don't do this to them. Not on their birthday," the woman said softly, glancing back at her children. Unlike her husband, she knew why her children seemed… different. She knew that the younger twin, the one in the arms of his brother, seem different in the same way as well, but the Gene lie dormant longer in the younger siblings, so it was hard to tell whether or not he inherited it as well. The woman wanted to smile at the obvious love that the twins had, but then she remembered her angry husband and scooted as far away as possible from him.

The woman knew that she just had to bide her time. Once her twins were a bit older, say, in their teens, then their abilities should have fully matured. Then, then the three of them can leave her husband. It would be _he _who cowered at _their_ hand, not the other way around! The woman would get her revenge! Until then, though, she has to suffer through this.

"Wha' more do you want, bitch?" the father growled. "I took 'em out like you wanted me to!"

"You took them to a _bar, _Sam!" the woman cried, tears streaming down her face to keep up her act. She hated having to feign weakness to this extent, but she had to. "You were going to _sell_ one of our children for _twenty dollars_!"

"I would've if the weirdo didn' go nuts and knock 'em himself out. And so? We don' need 'im anyways. One is enough."

The younger let out a sob. The elder held his sibling closer. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut when a sudden pain thundered through his head. For a brief second, he saw a bright light and heard two adults yelling at each other, a man and a woman (he recognized the voices as those of his parents) and then a scream. Then, the image changed into his shaking hands holding a document, but he couldn't make out what was on it. Then, as quick as the headache and vision came, they were gone. It all took place within five seconds. The boy knew at that moment that something was going to happen.

Something _big._

The car approached an intersection, and the light turned red.

"Sam, slow down. You're gonna run the light."

"There's no one out 'ere, we're fine."

"Sam, _stop_!"

"I DO WHAT I WANT, BITCH!"

"SAM!"

_BEEEEEEEEP!_

The sixteen wheel truck slammed into the small car. The gray vehicle went flying, rolling four or five times before coming to a stop on its side.

…

The broken glass sprinkled the pavement like the beginnings of a light snow. The car was almost unrecognizable from the side that had been hit.

The boy tried his best to shield his brother's view of the mangled bodies of their parents. Their father had died on impact, the truck having slammed into his side of the car point-blank, and their mother… well, the boy wasn't sure how she turned out, but he _was _sure that he didn't want to find out.

He glanced down at the black string that his mother had given him for his birthday. It was a perfect, pale green colored, half of a sphere. His twin had gotten a similar necklace that was made up of the other half of his sphere, but his was a light blue color. His mother had said that it would help him find his way to his sibling if they were ever separated. Right at that moment, it was glowing brightly and felt warm against his sternum. His brother's was glowing as well.

He closed his eyes and promised himself he would remember his mother.

He briefly wondered about his vision in the car. The headache was never that bad before. Why was this time different? The boy knew that he _saw _the accident seconds before it actually happened, but what about that paper?

He heard the wailing siren of an ambulance. Strange, he hadn't heard anyone making the call. He knew that if the other driver had called 911, then the person should have tried to check up on them…

…unless the other driver was too injured to do much more than make a phone call. _'And besides,' _the boy rationalized, _'the truck is pretty far away.'_

His left wrist hurt. A lot. And so did his right leg from his mid-thigh down. For some reason he couldn't really feel his fingers or his toes. Why was that? He looked down at his hand immediately regretted it. It was just… hanging there… so much blood…

He heard a whimper, and he banished his thoughts so he could focus on his twin.

"Jackie… I hurt so bad," the younger gasped, tears streaming down his young face. Blood that oozed from his stomach coated his small hand.

"I know, Logie. I'm sorry," the elder whispered. The younger grasped his brother's good hand even tighter, whimpering.

Footsteps approached the car, and a light appeared.

"Whassat?" the younger asked quietly.

"They're looking for us," the elder realized. His eyebrows furrowed and mentally debated whether or not to stand up and defend himself and his twin. After a moment of indecision, he held his brother closer. He didn't think he could stand up. He also had a really bad feeling about the people that had come to help them.

The people that had _supposedly _come to help them.

"Who?" his sibling questioned.

"I don't know." The sickening feeling deepened. The boy is confused as to where his dread is coming from. Why would he fear the paramedics?

"Whatever happens, just don't leave me, okay?" The volume of the younger's voice rose as the person got closer.

"I won't." The elder desperately hopes he can keep his promise.

"Jackie!" The other was sobbing.

The person walked around the car and shone his light on them before calling someone else over.

The younger screamed his brother's name one last time.

"I WON'T!"

…

The boy woke up on a gurney to see a dark shape looming over him, and he felt something being pressed against the side of his neck, just underneath his jaw. Immediately thinking it was his father, he tried to lash out and found that he felt really weak.

"Woah, easy there, son. Glad you're back."

"You…" The boy frowned, confused. The pressure on his neck disappeared. "You never call me son… what do you want? And where was I?"

The man's face came into focus, and the boy realized that this _wasn't _his father.

"Where was I?" he asked again.

"Just gotta stay still, alright?"

The man had a gruff looking face, and the boy immediately didn't trust him, but he nodded anyway. He looked over to his right. He saw his twin's still form, covered with a blanket up to his shoulders. His hands rested on top of the blanket.

"Hey, don't—"

"Logan?" The boy asked.

No answer.

The paramedic tried to calm the boy down.

The boy reached over and grabbed his twin's hand.

His skin was cold.

"Lie back down!"

"Logan?" the boy called again, louder. He shook his brother's hand a little.

Still no answer.

The boy raised his head.

"Kid, don't make my job any harder—"

"Logan?!" The boy began resisting the man now, wondering what kind of heartless paramedic this was. "Logan!"

"Don't make me—"

"LOGAN!" The boy started to cry when he realized why his other wasn't answering. He didn't want to believe it. "LOGAN! No! NO!"

The paramedic grabbed a sedative and used his teeth to get the cap off of the needle.

"NO! LOGAN! LOGAN!"

He injected the boy. The child barely even felt the prick as he continued to call his twin.

"Please!" the boy cried, begging the man to understand. "That's my brother! No! I can't leave him! I can't… I can't leave him!" The boy's head dropped back onto the pillow as the sedative started to take effect.

"No…"

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**CARDINAL Headquarters, Albany, NY, 3/12 14:22**

_"Welcome back, Agents Anderson and Turner," _Evelyn's computer generated voice greets in monotone, her words appearing in blue letters on the small TV screen that's built into the white elevator wall. The doors close, and anyone on the other side looking at the closed elevator would think that it was a normal part of a brick wall in a normal alleyway. Oh, how wrong they would be.

A short trip later, Arthur and I are on the first floor of Headquarters. Up until this point he had been ranting about how much he hates me and some other crap that I could care less about, but as we walk out of the elevator, he states one last thing that set me off;

"You, Jack, don't know _anything_ about going out into the field. You're nothing but a scrawny little skate rat and a _lab experiment."_

Oh, _hell _no.

Let me get this straight with all of you. There are three things you can do that I guarantee you will piss me off: mess up my hair, endanger civilians, and insult my abilities. And Arthur has done one too many of those.

I clench my fists, silently counting to seven in my head to try and calm myself down. It doesn't work. So, instead of walking away (like I probably should have), I turn around to face him. "And _you_ are nothing but a spoiled little _poser_."

I probably could have said worse, but hey, I'm just nice like that.

I turn back around and start to walk away, when I hear him rushing at me. My defensive instincts kick in, and I whip around and throw him into a section of the wall that is under repair and therefore boarded off with wood. He crashes halfway through it in such a way that he's practically sitting in the hole.

My vision gains a light orange tint and brief phrases stating attack options show on the left side of my line of sight. I can suddenly hear, smell, and see better.

I'm about to surge forward and finish him off when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head and see Marissa, my mentor and guardian, glaring at me through narrowed blue eyes. I shrug off her hand and storm off to my room, the orange tint and the words fading.

The guy totally had it coming. He's got an ego the size of Jupiter _and _he's a complete douchebag to boot. Just because he has a rich dad in high places in CARDINAL doesn't mean he can treat anyone and everyone below his father's position like dirt.

CARDINAL. Generator Rex. They're practically the same thing because _Man of Action _is really four rogue agents that decided that they didn't want to be a part of us anymore. They disappeared off the radar for a while, and not even Evelyn could find them. Then, about a year later, they suddenly appear; along with a new TV show. It was too late to do much more than get rid of them, since they had already released all sixty of the episodes they had planned to do. Almost everything in the show had a significant other in real life.

Providence. A.k.a., CARDINAL. They're both secretive government agencies, but CARDINAL is even more secretive than Providence. While Providence goes all out with their guns and soldiers and huge airship things to take out the monster terrorizing the public, we secretly dispatch agents to go find out about the threat and quietly squash it. This might be because all adversaries CARDINAL are fully human, and not giant mutated humans out to cause destruction. CARDINAL also has a branch in every single state in the US, as well as some other countries as well, and the ones outside of the US have different names.

It's also funded by some billionaire inventor that lives in Chicago. Not sure about his name, but I do remember his initials because they're the same letter; DD. Rumor has it that he's remarried and has a stepson, as well as three superhuman teenagers.

Marissa Mayer's cartoon counterpart would be Six. Both of them are badass ninjas with two deadly magnablades. Both of them have to look after a "mechanically advanced" (not my choice of words) teenager with a questionable past. And both of them may or may not be the love interest of the smartest person in the whole organization. But there are some major differences between the two; Marissa doesn't wear a green suit or sunglasses all the time, and Six isn't an Irish redhead with a fiery temper.

I, of course, would be Rex. The two of us are the most valued agents in our respective organizations. While Rex has the awesome ability to transform his body parts into robotic devices that can aide him, I simply have a robotic left hand, right leg, and a number of chips located in various parts of my brain. What happened just now with the orange vision is just one of the chips at work.

Lucky me.

The chips glitch sometimes, though. According to the previously mentioned billionaire inventor, it's because the they were never meant to be integrated into the human nervous system. Their main purpose is to "keep the body stabilized," but this wacko inventor also threw in a prototype thing that allows me to have some superhuman abilities; superhuman abilities that tend to act up at random times. Like, for example, sometimes if I sneeze then something in the room that I'm in blows up. Last time it was a toaster.

It wasn't pretty.

Like Rex, I don't remember any of my childhood. Anderson isn't my real name, but I don't _know _my real last name, so I suppose it will do. I'm not able to recall anything before waking up in a car with Marissa when I was eight. I've been told, though, that I was in a car accident when I was seven. This accident killed my parents and sibling and is the reason I have a robotic hand and leg. Then, apparently, I was kidnapped by a bunch of enemy spies posing as paramedics. What they would want with a seven year old, I have no idea. I was in their clutches for about a year until CARDINAL swooped in and rescues me. Me waking up to them bringing me back to Headquarters is the farthest back I can remember.

The only thing that I have from my childhood is a dark brown leather strap about an inch wide with a pale green half of a sphere on it. It used to be a necklace, but I decided to convert it into the bracelet. I'm not sure what the hemisphere represents, but it's from my childhood so it must mean something.

_"I'm assuming the mission didn't go as smoothly as expected," _Evelyn says, as I place my hand on the ID pad that would open the door to my room. I walk inside and the door slides closed behind me. My TV turns on, displaying her form of choice for today. She's chosen to be a formal looking woman that is all business, complete with a suit, blonde hair tied up in a bun, and a no-nonsense expression.

That's not a good sign. Usually she's pretty casual, taking on the form of a female in her thirties or under for the most part; like yesterday, for example, when she was a teenager about my age that wore a graphic tee, a jean jacket, and shorts. The fact that she's all serious right now is making me kind of nervous, because she's one of the only two people (she's not a person, but you get what I mean) that I know are nice to me just because that's just the way they are.

"Not in the slightest," I groan. "He provoked our target into shooting at us, accidentally hit me with a tranq gun, got us captured _twice_, somehow managed to speed up the explosion time of a pipe bomb, and endangered a bus full of innocents because he decided to try and impress a girl. I hope I never have to work with that idiot ever again."

_"For the sake of the walls, I hope so, too."_

I roll my eyes at the statement, flopping down on my bed. Bella, my beloved bulldog, is awakened by the movement. Raising her head, she stares at me sleepily before recognizing me. She gets up from the corner of the bed that she was resting in and plows through the blankets before arriving in my lap, where she promptly falls asleep again.

I smile (a rare expression for me) down at the three-year-old canine, rubbing her head fondly. She was given to me by a grateful couple that I had saved from the rage of an arsonist. At the time, she was just a puppy, and I loved her as soon as she was put in my arms. Whenever I'm out on a mission or something, the "Bella Box" takes care of her. This box is basically a machine that will walk her (built-in treadmill), wash her (soapy brushes) and do all the stuff that a bulldog needs to be healthy. It makes me feel bad that most times I'm not here to do it all, but I can't control when I have to go out for a mission.

I guess Bella's equivalent in the Generator Rex universe would be Bobo Haha, the talking monkey. Or gorilla. Or chimp. Whatever the heck he is. But Bella never goes with me on missions, so I'm not sure how _Man of Action _turned her into a mutant-fighting primate.

_"Jack. Mr. Buscall requests a video conference. Shall I open the conversation?"_

I frown. Evelyn's voice sounds… cold. Detached. I mean, yeah, she's a computer program, but I've known her long enough to be able to tell when something's up.

"Yeah, go ahead," I respond, walking over to the mini-fridge in the opposite corner of the room from the Bella Box and grabbing an apple from the inside. Evelyn disappears from the screen to reveal a sight so horrifying, so terrible, so _awful,_ that it makes me want to scream in terror. This coming from a guy who has witnessed a corpse come back to life to try and kill him. (The result of a psycho scientist bent on world domination deciding to try and recreate the movie _World War Z. _Don't ask.) I drop the apple in shock.

My boss. _Smiling._

I shudder, half expecting him to scream "April Fool's!" before ordering me to do something, even though it's the middle of September. As you probably guessed, Mr. Buscall (or you can use my nickname for him, "Buzzkill") in Generator Rex is White Knight. They're both pretty much the same in appearance and demeanor. But, Buzzkill _smiling_? It must be the end of the world. But I don't hear any screaming…

_"Jack," _he says in a sing-song voice. Sing-song! What has this world come to?! _"I have a surprise for you!"_

"Is it my sanity?" I deadpan. "Because I'm pretty sure I lost it a few seconds ago."

The normal scowl returns to his face (hallelujah!) and he glares at me.

_"What? I'm human. I'm allowed to be expressive."_

"Well—"

_"Just get down to my office," _he huffs.

I do as the man says and exit my room, making sure Bella is inside before the door slides shut. I notice two men walk by me a couple of seconds later, in the direction of my room. I dismiss the thread of suspicion I get from that, thinking that they're just going to the storage closet that's not far from my room. One short trip later, I've arrived in Buzzkill's office, and I'm surprised to see Marissa and JD there as well.

JD McHale is a weird combination of Dr. Holiday and Caesar from the show. He's got Holiday's medical smarts and job of making sure I'm healthy, and Caesar's scientific genius and mad scientist tendencies. He invented half of the technology at CARDINAL. But, even with all of his intelligence _and _his eidetic memory, he is completely clueless when it comes to his feelings.

But what is he doing here? I mean, I understand Marissa being here, because she's my guardian and anything Buzzkill has to say to me is usually her business, but JD being here doesn't make sense. It's like your doctor going with you and your parents to school to talk with your teachers.

Marissa, ever the blunt one, simply states, "You're being moved to IL."

IL. Illinois. Though I've been to Illinois two or three times for missions, I didn't really consider it a 'homey' place.

_"What?! _Why?!"

"You are no longer needed here," Buzzkill states.

A little orange light flashes at the corner of my vision.

"You're lying," I hiss. I feel too angry to bask in the fact that I'm needed here. My sight starts to take on the familiar light orange tint, initiated by my anger. "That's not the reason. Why won't you tell me?!"

If he's taken aback by me calling him out like that, he doesn't show it. He hasn't really been around me enough to actually experience some of my abilities first-hand, but he knows enough about me through mission reports and what he's been told. "You don't need to know."

"With all due respect, Mr. Buscall, doesn't he have the right to know?" Marissa says, in a voice that's anything but respectful. She hates the guy just as much as I do.

"Marissa and JD are in here because they're going to be leaving you and posing as your parents," Buzzkill states, ignoring Marissa's question. "Think of it as a lifelong Cloak mission."

"P-parents?..." I'm momentarily thrown off. I haven't had parents in a long while. I don't even remember them. "Fine. Whatever. But you know that I'm one of the best fighters here [because of Marissa's training]. And it's not like I'm just going to pack my stuff and agree to this."

Buzzkill grins wolfishly. "I know that. That's why I have two men in your room gathering your belongings as we speak."

I remember the two men that passed by me, and I scowl. I knew something was off about them.

I momentarily feel sorry for JD He clearly doesn't want to do this. I can tell Marissa doesn't want to either. Even though she's just as stoic as she always is, I've known her long enough to be able to take one look at her and I'll have a general idea of what she's thinking. That, and whenever she's really angry or feeling some sort of extreme emotion like that, her Irish accent bleeds into her speech.

Buzzkill, on the other hand, is all too happy to get rid of me. He and I have butted heads plenty of times in the past, and it drives him nuts that he's not allowed to fire me. His boss's boss won't allow it, claiming I'm too "valuable." For Buzzkill, moving me to another branch is the next best thing.

I turn around to leave the room and go stop the men, but the door slides closed before I can get out. I slowly turn back around and face Buzzkill. JD has his eyebrows furrowed. Marissa looks tense.

Before any of us can react, Buzzkill is standing, has a gun in his hand, and is pulling the trigger while growling something. Normally I would have responded within a split second, but the whole "HOLY CRAP MY BOSS IS SHOOTING AT ME?!" thing kind of delays that. The dart (because the gun is a tranquilizer gun, which is weird because he of all people would have access to a real gun) hits me in the shoulder. My knees buckle underneath me, and seconds later my body hits the floor.

Curse the effectiveness of those things.

Marissa's by my side in a split second. I can hear her Irish accent clearly as she tries to get me to stay awake. My vision starts to swim. I hear snatches of JD yelling at Buzzkill, catching the phrases "only a prototype" and "reacts negatively". Orange words reading _"system shutting down" _scroll up my line of sight like the credits at the end of a movie. Then, the darkness takes over.

* * *

**Ok. So that's that. **

******Does Jack seem too OOC? Or does his personality seem just out of whack? I think I turned him into a cocky, sarcastic, sort-of-introverted, _thing. _I dunno.**

******I haveyetto think of a good name for this. The one I've chosen is 'Bionic Oblivion,' but I really hate it, so can you guys help me think of a better one?**

**The accident scene is based off of the one from that movie _Charlie St. Cloud. _And this whole story was inspired by _Cinder _by Marissa Meyer. (That's where I got Marissa's character from.) To those of you who are fans of her, she has a Fanfiction profile. I think she writes stuff for Sailor Moon or some kind of anime show like that. I can't remember the name at the moment, but you should be able to Google it and find out.**

**Past all of that, what'd ya think? I can't even begin to tell you guys how excited I am for this fic.^v^**

**-BP**

**P.S. This is a crossover with two other shows. See if you can figure them out. ;)**

**P.P.S. Reviews are addicting. Like a drug. Or _Criminal Minds_ (which my MOTHER has banned me from watching but that I still watch anyways). Or Max Schneider. Or OMFGIt'sJackandDean. Or GUMMY BEARS OMFGL;FJDK;LASJF**


	3. Life Without Motors

**Welp. This is a stupid little oneshot that I wrote for a Science assignment. The prompt was "life without motors" and I decided to just use the Kickin' It characters. I actually wrote a little more than this, but the full version of this (it's not really that much more) is saved under my account in the school system computers, and I am uploading this from my laptop at home. Review if you want the two, maybe three, maybe four, possibly-but-I-doubt-it five paragraphs that aren't in this.**

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**Inspired By: **a prompt; "life without motors"

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Kimberly Crawford really despises sunlight sometimes.

Okay, so it might be the force that powers well over three-fourths of the world's sources, and yes it also provided life to the planet, but it's incredibly irritating in the morning when it _just_ manages to stream through the small hole in her curtains and beam insistently onto her left eye.

Grumbling to herself, she rolls over in her cot and places the bundle of cloth that she uses as a pillow over head, but it's no use. The cursed firey ball of gas in the sky has once again succeeded in waking her up from a peaceful sleep. _Sun — 5756. Kim — 0._

She sighs and sits up, groggily moving her slim legs off of the side of the bed and standing up. She walks in an almost-drunken gait over to her window, parting her curtains and looking at the sundial outside of her window. According to it, it's around two in the afternoon. Perhaps the sun did her a favor in rousing her on this bright Saturday just-past morning, as her mother would surely have come to her room armed and ready with a bucket of ice cold water fresh from the river if her daughter wasn't up soon. Kim learned that the hard way.

Kim turns around, leaving her curtains open. She exits her room and heads to the bathroom. She stares tiredly at her reflection in a bucket of water left over from the day before; if her mussed blonde hair doesn't betray the fact that she had just woken up, then her half-lidded brown eyes certainly did. She squints into the bucket, scratching at the corner of her mouth where drool had crusted overnight. She then grabs her toothbrush and proceeds to brush her teeth, spitting and gargling and whatnot.

She contemplates showering, knowing that the water would be nice and warm after having been heated up by solar energy, and that it would make the job of taming her wild blond mane easier. She decides against it. The water would just wake her up even further, completely eliminating any chance of getting a catnap later in the day.

With that thought, she trudges downstairs and finds her family already up and about (she honestly has no idea how they have this much energy so early in the day). Her younger sister Isabel is chatting animatedly with one of her friends while they braid each other's hair. Kim honestly can't remember the name of this one; Isabel has so many friends that Kim just can't keep up.

Mrs. Crawford is busy in the kitchen, humming tunelessly as she makes breakfast over the firepit. Kim can see a used plate peeking out of the stone basin that they use as a sink. Her father must have already eaten and gone to the office. Being the mayor of the large community that they live in results in him often not being in the house during the day, especially with the rumor circulating that a couple of citizens tried to create motors.

Kim shudders at the thought of the word as she meanders over to the kitchen and greets her mother good morning. The dreaded 'm' word was what almost resulted in the end of the world nearly a century before. She's learned all about them in school and from her grandparents, who were born in the time period when the 'm' word reigned and remembered it quite clearly. Human beings were very indolent back then; they had let machines powered by motors (it terrifies her just to think it) assist them in almost every aspect of life so that they wouldn't have to do as much work, which caused people to get fat and lazy. Devices called "computers" were especially dominant. They did the thinking for people so that they never had to "stress their brains" or something like that.

But then one day, something happened, an ominous, unexplainable something that scientists are still puzzling over to this day. There was some kind of strange power surge. Scientifically, it should have been impossible for anything of the sort to happen, for a large number of reasons, but it did and the result was devastating.

Things stopped working.

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**I promise you people that there will be more interesting oneshots than these first three. I PROMISE. The next one is going to be a Walking Dead type AU sort of thing (if I don't find another random oneshot to post before I finish writing that) so be on the lookout for it! ^v^ I really love you guys. I don't say that enough. When I see that little email icon on my phone (because my phone is synched with my email, so if my phone is on then I will know the minute that you review), I get so excited, and when I find out it's a review then... well... I was once asked if I spontaneously just got high. So. YOUR REVIEWS MEAN A LOT MORE TO ME THAN YOU THINK!**

**OMFG I just thought I'd tell you this (not like you'd really care): I took a mandatory writing test back in January and today my LA teacher (the wonderful Mrs. Erdman; she has mad an appearance in some of my other stories) told me that ONE OTHER PERSON AND I got an EXCEEDS on the WRITING TEST. As in, WE 2, out of 300 EIGHTH GRADERS, got an exceeds. YESSSSSSSSSS. And that one other person just happened to be one of my best friends, so that's kinda weird, but WHATEVER! AAAAAAAAAH!**


	4. Walking Dead AU(ishness)

**Ok, I'm really excited about this one you gaiiiiiz! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Inspired By: **The Walking Dead and zombies in general

* * *

Jerry knows they're being followed.

He's sensed them for about ten minutes now, to be honest. It isn't hard for him to pick up on the subtle rustling of leaves and clothing, the shifting of branches, and the whispered words that signified that more than one person is tailing them.

The problem is that he doesn't know how many there are. The number could be anywhere from seven to ten. His ears, which are for whatever reason superior to that of his friends, are having difficulty discerning exactly what the number is. It's important, because it would tell them if they're outnumbered or not. It doesn't really help that it's nighttime, so he can't really see anything either.

The Latino is worried, for a lot of reasons. Then again, this is an apocalypse. You're constantly worried about everything; food, reliable shelter, defense against the undead that are slowly taking over the world, and caution against the living that want to prey on others. As the nine teenagers trek down the abandoned street somewhere within the ruins of southern Georgia, Jerry knows that the last one is their priority at the moment.

He wishes that that stupid scientist hadn't tried out that mutated strain of rabies on that poor dog. Then the animal wouldn't have bitten the man, and then the man wouldn't have escaped his lab and started biting people that lived around him, and the disease wouldn't have spread, and Kiara and Rudy wouldn't be _dead, _and… and… _it's not fair. _

He huffs quietly and shakes his head to get rid of the thought. People always told him that "life isn't fair." He knows that. He's so stupid. Here he is, griping about his and their losses, when there are people that are worse off than them. Namely, people that are dead.

Jerry studies his eight companions in an attempt to derail his train of thought.

They're walking in threes down the street, Jerry being at the back middle with his nun-chucks. The Latino's best friend Jack walks alongside him silently, wielding his bo staff beside him. The long-haired teen has become a stoic and apathetic shell of his former self as a result of the apocalypse. Then again, Jerry supposes being forced into a situation where you have to kill your family and karate instructor will do that to you.

On Jerry's other side is Ally, one of the four teens that the Wasabi Warriors had run into on their journey out of Florida. The girl is quiet, and doesn't really speak to any of the Warriors. Jerry's not sure if it's fear, shyness, mistrust, or a varied combination of the three. He suspects she was a very bubbly person Before. Even so, she and Eddie are the most accurate shooters in the group, and very much valued.

In front of them are Eddie, Dez, and Trish. The African-American teen can no longer be called chubby, having lost all of the extra squishiness. He had also lost his carefree attitude for the most part, though he could still crack a joke or two. He can also crack a zombie's head by putting a well-aimed bullet through it.

Dez and Trish are another two of the four that the Warriors had run into. The redhead is practically a child, somehow always being able to find something to smile about, despite the world that they've found themselves plunged into. He's a strange one. Jerry thinks he's the only person that could ever find anything like the bright red and purple ice pick axe that he holds so dear.

Unfortunately, Dez is also sick. _No,_ he wasn't bitten, they know that for a fact, but he seems to have come down with a cold or the flu or something. The teens are hoping that he gets better soon.

Trish is a fiery tempered Latina girl that seems to take way too much pleasure from bashing zombies' heads in with her baseball bat. She's so violent that it's actually quite worrying. Jerry supposes it could be her way of coping with what's happened to the world. For some people, violence is always the answer, and it looks like Trish is one of those people.

The front row is made up of Austin, Kim, and Milton, Austin being the last one of the four they had run into. Before, Austin was apparently a pop singer. He carries his ukulele in a secure bag on his back, and whenever they reach a lull in activity, he'll bring it forth and play it. Sometimes he sings. Sometimes they all sing. Sometimes no one sings. Overall, it's a very comforting activity that Jerry loves to take part in.

Austin is also, (quite unexpectedly) is the group's medical person. It's apparently the result of having spent many summers working at the hospital his aunt manages. The katanas he uses as weapons belonged to his uncle, who just so happened to be a martial arts expert that passed on a bit of his knowledge to his nephew.

Kim, ever the fierce blonde, carries her crossbow like a lifeline. Strangely enough, her personality hadn't changed much as a result of the apocalypse like everyone else's seems to have done. She's still a feisty, sassy girl that won't take any crap, though she had sobered up a little bit compared to the way she was Before.

Finally, there's Milton. Jerry thinks that, out of all of them, the redhead had changed the most. Of course, he has has no prior knowledge of their newest friends' previous personalities. He had taken up the leadership role for the group (instead of Jack, which everyone that knew him expected). Gone was the awkward, naive, physically challenged boy that he was when he and Jerry had first met. In his place is a logical and level-headed _leader _(hmm. There's a term for that that he learned in Language Arts. An alliteration, or something?) that takes charge of a situation and diffuses the problem efficiently.

In Jerry's opinion, the gradual transformation is quite amazing. Who would have thought that the nerdy boy could have turned into an awesome bladed-gauntlet-wielding badass? Not that he wasn't awesome before. It's just that Jerry imagined Milton would be forever nerdy and he and Julie would grow up nerdy together and have nerdy little nerd babies. Hmm. Nerds. He really misses that candy—

_'Focus, Jerry!' _he snaps at himself. He shakes himself out of his twenty second reverie. He has to focus and get the message to the others that they're being followed. If their pursuers decide to attack and Jerry hasn't told his group, the guilt will eat at them for the rest of his life.

He coughs three times.

Eight other bodies tense in preparation for an attack. Jerry knows they got the message. Silence reigns once again, and Jerry waits for the question.

"Hey, Jerry, remember that time that you ate those ghost peppers?"

It's Ally. Of course, Jerry has no idea of such an event happening, because it never happened. But they have to communicate without letting their pursuers know that they've been found out, so a bit of creativity is needed.

"Oh yeah." Jerry forces a laugh. "Yeah, that wasn't fun."

"Oh my gosh, I remember that! How many of them did you eat again?" Eddie says. He's a much better actor than Jerry is.

There's the question. "I dunno," the Latino responds, heart pounding. "Somewhere between seven and ten."

It's been answered, but they have to keep the conversation going to avoid suspicion. "God, Jerry, that was the first time I've ever seen you cry," Kim says, giggling.

"You went through, like, three gallons of milk," Austin chuckles.

"And of course, it has to be the day that I leave to see my aunt's trial that all of this goes down," Dez comments, rolling his eyes. This makes all of them laugh for real, though it does sound a little strained. Jerry really respects the redhead's imagination.

They fall into silence again. Jerry ponders what might be going on in Milton's head, because the smart teen is obviously trying to think of a way out of their predicament. They're walking down an empty street. They're surrounded by trees on either side. Clearly, the people following them have the advantage here. So what are they going to do?

Then, Jack goes down.

Jerry heard the _whoosh _of the dart being fired, and even saw the thing for a brief moment as it sliced through the air and embedded itself in his best friend's neck. The long-haired teen had grunted, and his hand automatically reached up to the spot. He's only able to get out a confused "huh?" before he collapses against Jerry.

Surprised, the Latino almost shoves the other off, before his brain catches up to his muscles and kneeling down under the dead weight. By now, the others had stopped and adopted defensive postures, and figures surge out of the cover of trees on either side. Jerry quickly props the unconscious Jack against a tree before standing up to help defend himself and his friends from the people advancing on them.

Shots are fired. Screams are emitted. Injuries are obtained.

_"STOP!"_

Milton's commanding voice stops everyone in their tracks, but Jerry's nun-chucks continue on their path towards his adversary's gut. The short man's mouth makes an 'o' shape as all the air in his lungs escapes through his mouth. Jerry unfeelingly mutters an apology.

The Latino takes the time to look around at everyone's predicaments. Austin is locked in a standstill with an Asian-looking woman bearing a bo staff similar to Jack's, with both of his katanas pushing against her weapon. Dez is leaning against a tree, looking sickly with one hand clutching a bloody shoulder. A dark-haired woman stands in front of him armed with a gun. Jerry thinks he can see crimson on the end of Dez's ice pick axe. Ally has her gun aimed at a lanky teen in front of her, and he's mirroring her position. Trish has her baseball bat raised, ready to whack the bald man on the ground at her feet. There is a cut on her cheek with blood streaming down from it. It seems like Kim abandoned her crossbow in favor of hand-to-hand combat with a fierce looking woman who also abandoned her firearm. A large man has Eddie in a headlock. Milton is standing with the blade on one of his gauntlets aimed at the neck of another man. Eight people total.

"Why did you attack us?" the redhead asks lowly, eyes narrowed. He looks terrifying in Jerry's opinion.

The man chuckles. "Well, aren't you a ferocious group?" he says, stepping back a little and touching his finger to the point of Milton's blade. Milton glares at him. Jerry thinks the man is asking for death. "We simply wanted—"

_"KI—"_

All heads whip towards the source of the sound, but all that's seen is pale, flailing limbs being pulled into the bush. The voice was female, and it's now muffled. The girl is clearly struggling against the person holding her. Jerry can vaguely see the two forms in the darkness if he squints. Muttering can be heard probably coming from the one restraining her. After a moment, the girl stops. The person uncovers her mouth, but doesn't release her.

For a moment, Jerry lets himself believe that the girl was Grace, and that she was calling Kim's name. Then he dismisses the thought. Grace had gone to some sort of cheerleading competition the day the world went to crap. It couldn't be her.

No one moves towards her. Jerry knows he would have, but he's kinda stuck in another situation right now, so…

"I apologize on their behalf," the man being held at blade-point by Milton says. The expression on his face spells out annoyance. "Those two shouldn't even _be here._" He says the last part loudly, probably so the two could hear him.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Milton says coolly, reminding the man of how close to death he is. Jerry doesn't think the redhead would hesitate to push that blade forward, just a little more. "And call off your people."

"Hey, you don't have to be like that," the man says, smiling in a way that he probably thought would diffuse the situation a little bit. If anything, it made it worse, if Milton's clearly growing irritation isn't any indication. "We simply need supplies. And guys, leave them alone."

The opposing group members relent, albeit reluctantly. The man holding Eddie shakes his head.

"The little fucker shot my foot!" the bulky man exclaims.

"This little fucker's gonna bash your head in if you don't let him go," Trish threatens, raising her bat. The man talking to Milton, who seems to be the opposing leader, nods at Eddie's captor. The other huffs childishly and releases the teen, who rubs his neck.

Milton lowers his blade. His glare has been replaced by a calculating stare. Jerry doesn't know if the teen's angry face is even half as scary as this one. "You decided attacking a group of teenagers is the best way to obtain them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, we're desperate," the teen facing off with Ally says. "We need supplies. Two of our people have actually _died _of starvation. Another has an injury that's infected. She's gonna die soon, too, if we don't do something."

"And you couldn't just _ask _us if we could _give _you some?!" Kim exclaims, sounding incredulous. "You had to knock out one of our people and then attack us?! What's up with that, anyway?!"

"Yeah, sorry," the leader says, shrugging. "We thought we should eliminate the biggest threat."

Jerry feels himself pale. 'Eliminate?' Did they _kill _Jack? Apparently, Kim's mind goes to the same thing. Her face goes white before flushing red. She picks up her crossbow. "If he's dead, I swear, I will _shoot an arrow so far up your ass that it comes out your—"_

"Please don't finish that sentence," the man says, looking distinctly uncomfortable and a bit fearful of the blonde. Jerry feels a brief, stupid disappointment. He wanted to hear the rest of the threat.

The tall teenager facing off with Ally — Jerry's just gonna name him Alto — snickers. The man — Stefen — glares at him. "He's not dead, he's just unconscious. He'll be out for about twenty minutes."

Kim relaxes, but still holds her crossbow. She walks over to the tree that the unconscious teen rests against and sits down next to him, with one leg out and the other one pulled up against her. The hand holding the crossbow hangs off of the leg. Jerry can tell she's itching to touch the other, but something is holding her back.

"Kim's right," Jerry speaks up, frowning. "Why couldn't you guys have just asked us? We might have been willing to share." He knows that he would have been. There are other survivors out there, survivors that are in need of necessities like food and water.

"'Might' is the key term there. We probably wouldn't have gotten anything. " the fierce-looking woman — Mieda (why not?) — comments. Jerry can see a tube sticking out of her back pocket. She's probably the one that shot Jack with the dart. Jerry allows himself to ponder on that. If you're capable of creating something to knock someone out, then why not make a lot of it so you can knock out multiple people? Then again, it could be that they don't have what they need to make more.

"So?" Ally says. "If you steal from someone who's suffering from the same things that you are, then you're no better than the zombies. In fact, the zombies probably _are _better, because they're just acting on their instincts. You guys have choices."

"Look, don't go all sentimental on us, alright?" the large man — Chewbacca (this is actually pretty fun) — states. "We don't need your 'good moral' crap, bitch."

"Talk to her like that again," Austin says, casually twirling a katana between his fingers and somehow managing to not cut himself. "I dare you."

Chewbacca narrows his eyes and falls silent.

"Please," the Asian woman that faced off with Austin (Mariposa. She kinda reminds Jerry of a butterfly) begs. "We have _children._" Hmmp. She didn't seem to be thinking about that when she ruthlessly attacked Austin. But then again, Jerry knows that mothers are willing to do anything for their children, and the woman seems like someone who has a kid.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, his voice sounding a little hoarse. "Well, technically, we _are _children."

"Children don't beat people with baseball bats," the man at Trish's feet (Gordo; the guy' pretty fat) states, filling the heavy-silence that had followed Eddie's statement and staring at the girl with said weapon. Jerry stifles a laugh as she flashes him a devilish grin, and Gordo scoots away from her.

"Whatever you guys think, you should hurry up and decide," the woman that cornered Dez (Tranquila) says calmly, "because your friend here isn't looking so hot." She's holding her arm (probably where Dez hit her) as she jerks her head in the teen's direction. He's slumped against the tree, limp. Austin flashes to his best friend's side in an instant to tend to him. Trish (showing a rare display of genuine concern) and Ally move over there as well, kneeling down and unintentionally blocking Jerry's view of Dez. The Latino wants to help, but decides that crowding around the redhead won't solve anything.

"Ok, let's just talk this out," Stefen says with a laugh that sounds forced. "Could we please have some of your supplies?"

"No," Trish and Kim immediately say.

"Hold on a second," Milton responds. He stares at Stefen for a moment. "What do you need for the injured person?"

"Antibiotics, a bandage, dressing… we have water."

Milton turns his head. "Austin, do we have any of that?"

Austin frowns, before removing his backpack and digging around inside of it. "No antibiotics, but we do have bandages and dressing."

Milton looks at the man again. "We'll give it to you… in exchange for something."

"What?!" Trish and Kim exclaim. "After they tried to _kill _us?!" Trish states.

"We're all people, believe it or not," Jerry says softly, thinking of the child he found that died and turned in his arms a few weeks back. Tears threaten to take over at the thought. He can still feel the small girl's body going still against his, only to be reanimated minutes later…

He turns to the man he had knocked down, mentally deeming him Rudy because the man was had similar stature to the sensei. The Latino holds his hand out to the man. After a second of skepticism, Rudy accepts it and Jerry pulls him up.

"I think we should help 'em out," the Latino says. Rudy smiles at him. Jerry's filled with a sudden sense of longing for his deceased sensei. He misses the short, quirky man so much, as well as his family and other friends. Sometimes he feels like his heart is going to burst.

_This_ is how it should be; helping other people when they can, because they're all on the same boat. People should be banding together to help fend off and possibly eliminate the growing threat of the zombies. If they can't eliminate it, at least they could build a community or something, where everyone's watching each other's back and helping to make life a little more bearable. But no. Jerry doesn't suppose there's anything that can make this more bearable. There's also not really anything that can make it worse. Unless, of course, one of his friends die.

He doesn't want to think about that.

_"Jerry!" _He turns and sees the girl from earlier running towards him (with another teenager behind her trying and failing to grab onto her arm), only this time he can see her face — Grace?!_ — _and then suddenly she's tackling him in a hug. He wraps his arms around her waist to steady the both of them and pulls her closer. She kisses him and he can only stand there in shock for a couple of seconds because this is _Grace. _This is actually _Grace. _She's alive.

She's alive.

She's alive and her lips are on his.

Jerry kisses back after a brief delay due to his surprise, slotting his mouth against hers. Grace. _Grace. _She's alright. Jerry can't seem to get over the fact. She's not dead. He tightens his hold on her waist a little bit to confirm this, before reaching a hand up to her cheek and rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb. The girl he loved, _loves, _is here, in his arms. He thanks whatever deity is in the sky for her safety.

Maybe thinks can look up from here.

* * *

**So! How was it? I hate that ending, but I love everything else! ^v^ It was interesting to write from Jerry's (sort of) point of view. He kinda lost that silliness that he displays on the show, but that's what a zombie apocalypse will do to people. The names that he gave the group they encountered are all Spanish. It doesn't really matter if you don't know what they mean.**

**Reviews are angels! With shotguns! Coming to fight until the war's won! (Review if you like that song)**

**Until next time,**

**~BP**


	5. Kick fluff!

**So, this is a cute little Kick fluff thing. Enjoy! Just know that in the second part, I combined a few of them, so they may not be how the lines originally were.**

* * *

**Inspired By: **partly by a bunch of 'he likes you/she likes you' or 'boyfriend/girlfriend' stuff from my profile, partly by chapter 16 of 'Kick one-shots' by LetThemKnowIamROCK'N'ROLL712

* * *

**1. He stares at you a lot.**

Kim gets a sudden feeling that someone is looking at her. She looks around, frowning, before meeting Jack's eyes across the classroom. Realizing he'd been caught, he gives her a sheepish smile and a small wave. She smiles back.

It's not the first time she's caught him staring.

* * *

**2. He hits you a lot (just play hitting).**

Kim lightly smacks him on the arm as he and the guys stare slack-jawed at the bikini-clad model on the screen. He playfully hits her back, resulting in her hitting him again, and they engage in a small, playful slap fight.

* * *

**3. He uses the first thing that pops into his head to start a conversation with you.**

"Why is it that people say 'slept like a baby' when babies wake up like every two hours?"

"What?"

"Why is—"

"No, I heard you, but… _what?_" A laugh.

"I dunno." A shrug and a grin. "I was tired of the silence, so I just said whatever popped into my head."

"Jack, the moment of silence is like, ten seconds long. You can't wait for ten seconds?"

"Well, that's ten seconds wasted because I couldn't hear your voice."

"…"

* * *

**4. He yelled, "Hi!" to your mom the day she picked you up from school.**

"HI, MOM NUMBER TWO!" he yells, as she walks towards her mom's minivan.

* * *

**5. He blew off his buds to go see a movie with you cuz you couldn't get another girl pal to go and didn't want to go alone.**

"Hey, if you don't have anything planned, will you come watch 'The Horse Whisperer' with me?"

"That lame chick flick?"

"It's not lame! But please? Grace's aunt is sick, and Kelsey is out of town."

He weighs the option of going bowling with the guys against going to the movie. They had been planning to do this for about a week now, but Kim… "Sure."

* * *

**6. He tries to make you laugh anyway even if he gets hurt in the process.**

"Oh my god, Jack, what happened?!"

"Ugh, p… puberty?" A weak chuckle and then a groan.

_"What?!_ You are lying here, _bleeding, _and you're trying to be _funny_?! God, Jack, what is wrong with you?!" Angry tears stream down a pale face as she fumbles with her phone.

"I'm sorry… you just look so pained and…" A sad smile. "I'd rather you be laughing or something."

* * *

**7. His voice gets softer whenever you two talk. **

"Leave her alone! She's not a Black Dragon anymore! She doesn't have to do what you say!"

"Jack." She puts her hand on his tense forearm.

His brown eyes immediately softens as his gaze meets hers. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice quieter.

* * *

**8. You hung up on him. He called you back.**

She presses the 'End Call' button, peeved. Seconds later, the phone rings again.

* * *

**9. You were invited by him to a group outing. **

"Hey, you wanna come play Laser Tag with the guys and I later?"

"I thought it was Guys' Night."

"You don't expect me to leave out my favorite girl, do you? If the guys have a problem, then they can talk to me."

* * *

**10. He called you to talk about nothing at all.**

"Hey."

"Hey."

"…"

"…"

"Um… is there something you need?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why did you call?"

"I just… I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, is something wrong?"

"No."

"So…"

"I dunno. I wanna hear your voice."

* * *

**11. He imitates your laugh. Okay, you do laugh PRETTY LOUD, which makes you laugh even harder...**

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

_"Ha ha ha ha ha!"_

"Oh my god, HAHAHAHAHA!"

* * *

**12. He remembers the little things you mention in casual conversation.**

"Guess who got two tickets to that Fall Out Boy concert?"

"What… oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD! ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS?!"

A laugh. "Well, aren't you excited."

"How did you know I listened to them? I don't think I've ever mentioned it."

"You did, actually. A couple of weeks ago. I don't know what we were talking about, but I do remember you saying something about them."

* * *

**13 and 14. He sometimes stares into your eyes. He uses every possible way to touch you (your hair, face, thighs, KNEES, etc.)**

"Hey you have something on your…" He doesn't even bother to finish the sentence as he gently lifts his hand and cups her face, softly rubbing the pad of his thumb against her cheek. She smiles a little. Her face flushes a little bit as a result of the touch. He uses the hand to lift her head a little, and they make eye contact. Her face flushes even further as he just stares into her eyes. He seems to be quite fond of doing that, but his gaze has never looked so… _intense. _

"No, don't," he says softly, when she turns her gaze downwards again. She looks up at him again. When did they get so close? Though she can't really say she minds. He shifts his hand so that he can lightly brush his thumb against her lips. Her eyes flutter shut of their own accord, but he doesn't protest this time. Kim can feel him leaning closer, agonizingly slow, until—

"Hey, guys, sorry to keep— whoa."

The two teenagers practically leap apart as the sensei walks into his office. The short man's eyes widen as he processes their previous position. "Uh, did I interrupt something?"

* * *

**(And this is a second part, about what a boyfriend _should _do)**

* * *

**When she walks away from you, mad, **_**follow her. **_**When she pushes you or hits you, _grab her and don't let go_. When she pulls away, _pull her back. _When she starts cussing at you, _kiss her and tell her you love her_. **

"Ugh, I can _not _believe you just fucking did that!" She storms away from him and he follows her.

"Kim, hold on, wait." He runs after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to get hurt."

She slaps his hand away, fuming. "I can take care of myself perfectly fine!"

"I know, I know, I just…" He gently grips her upper arms, staring into her eyes and trying to plead with his expression as well as his voice. "I got so _mad _when they talked to you like that…"

"You fucking _attacked _them!" she screams at him. She beats on his chest to punctuate her point and jerks out of his grip again.

"You didn't see the one coming up behind you," he says softly, not raising his voice against her.

"So?! I was dealing with it perfectly fine on my own!"

"Kim." He grabs her and pulls her close to him.

_"Let me go!"_

"No." He hugs her closer, nuzzling his face in her neck. "I love you, Kim," he murmurs when he feels her go still. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt."

She relaxes against him and sighs. "I know, Jack, but I'm the one that was with the Black Dragons for years. Not you. I know how to handle them better than you do."

He raises his head and cups her cheeks, kissing her softly. "Okay."

* * *

**When she stares at your mouth, _kiss her. _**

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Jack," she says softly, as they walk hand in hand up to her porch after their third date.

He smiles at her. "I'm glad you did. I was a little worried you wouldn't be into go-karts."

She grins back as they stop in front of her front door. "Are you kidding? I'd rather _race_ than go to some fancy dinner."

"Well, I'll have to take you there a lot more often, then," he responds.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, neither wanting the night to end. Jack notices her eyes flick down to his lips as she bites her own. Making a split second decision, he takes a step closer, gently cups her face, and presses his mouth against hers.

* * *

**When she's quiet, _ask her what's wrong. _When she ignores you, _give her your attention_. When she doesn't answer for a long time, _reassure her that everything is okay. _When she looks up at you with doubt, _back yourself up._**

Normally when they're on one of their study dates, she would fill their little corner of the library with her animated chatter, but she's been unusually quiet today. He glances up at her, concerned. "Kim?"

She doesn't respond, instead staring down at the page of the textbook that Jack knows she isn't reading. Jack isn't sure weather she's ignoring him or she just didn't hear him. He closes his book and goes over to sit down next to her on the bright orange beanbag she's on, giving her his full attention. She jerks, startled, proving that his latter theory is correct.

"Jack? What are you—"

"What's wrong?"

Her eyebrows furrow together. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been really quiet today, Kim. Heck, now that I think about it, you've been quiet for the past couple of weeks now."

"Whaaaat?" she says, her voice getting higher like it normally does when she's lying. "I'm not _quiet._"

"What is it, Kim?" he asks softly, immediately seeing through her act. "Did something happen?"

"…" She doesn't answer for a long time.

"It's okay, you know. You can tell me."

"I… I think the Black Dragons are stalking me."

"_What?!_"

The librarian peeks around the corner and shushes him. He flashes her an apologetic smile before focusing back on his girlfriend.

"I've seen them around a lot more lately. I could have sworn one of them was following me the other day, and I found a note in my room…" Jack hugs her to him as she starts shaking, rubbing her back and kissing her hair. He doesn't ask what the note says.

"I'll take care of it."

She pulls away and looks up at him, her eyes wet with unshed tears as she looks at him with doubt. "What?"

"I said I'll take care of it."

"How?"

He smirks and raises an eyebrow. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

She rolls her eyes, but his intention is carried out when she smiles.

* * *

**When you see her start crying, _hold her and don't say a word. _When she's scared, _protect her. _**

"What is _wrong _with you?! How could you do this to him?!"

Jack tenses when he hears his girlfriend's voice, followed by sobs. He starts running towards the source and pushes himself to go faster when he hears her scream.

When he turns around the corner of the alleyway, he sees her on the ground, curled up in a ball with Kai, Frank, and two other Black Dragons standing above her. "Get the hell away from her!"

The four turn around, fear instantly clouding their expressions when they see the angry brunet. He rushes over to her, immediately putting himself between her and the others. Dread chills him when he notices the limp body of her collie Drake next to her.

The Black Dragons quickly take their leave, not saying a word to Jack. He kneels down by her side and gathers her in his arms as soon as they're out of sight. She cries into his chest and he rocks her gently without a word.

* * *

**When you see her walking, _sneak up and hug her waist from behind. _**

Kim walks on ahead, distracted by something on her phone. Jack motions for the guys to be quiet and crouches slightly as he quickly but quietly runs up to his girlfriend from behind. At the last second, he straightens, grabs her waist and shouts "HELLO!" in her ear.

* * *

**When you see her at her worst, _tell her she's beautiful. _**

"Uggggggh," the sick blonde groans, her face pale and sweaty as she leans over the toilet bowl. Jack kneels beside her, dutifully holding her hair out of her face and rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"Go on, beautiful," he murmurs. "Get it all out."

"My stomach hurts…" she moans pitifully.

"I know, and I'm sorry," he says, his heart aching for the ailing girl.

* * *

**When she teases you, _tease back and make her laugh_.**

"Hey, obsessed-with-his-hair guy."

"Hello, girl who is obsessed with obsessed-with-his-hair guy."

* * *

**When she bumps into you, _bump into her back and make her laugh._**

She gently bumps her hip into his as they walk down the sidewalk. He raises an eyebrow before bumping him back. They laugh, bumping each other back and forth as they walk.

* * *

**When she misses you, _s_**_**he's hurting inside. **_**When you break her heart, _t_**_**he pain never really goes away. **_**When she says its over, _s_**_**he still wants you to be hers.**_

"Do we really have to do this?" Jack asks softly, dropping his suitcase.

"Four years, Jack," she says, just as softly as tears stream down her face. "A lot can happen in four years. I'll be here, in Seaford, and you'll be in China. We'll both meet new people. I'd rather break up now instead of falling out of love later."

"We can try, though, can't we?"

"I don't know…"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Kim, are we breaking up?"

"I don't _want to, _Jack, I really don't. But…"

"Can I at least kiss you one more time?"

"…okay."

And with that he grabs her and kisses her hard, knowing that this is probably the last time he'll ever be able to.

* * *

**When she looks into your eyes, _don't look away until she does._**

Both of them are laying on their stomachs on Jack's bed, each working on the math problems they had been assigned earlier that day. He sees movement in his peripheral vision, and he looks up to see that she had pushed her book off to the side and huffed, looking at him. He raises an eyebrow, and she just looks at him. She smiles. He smiles back. Then she laughs and looks away.

* * *

**When she grabs at your hands, _hold hers and play with her fingers. _When she says she likes you, _she really does more than you could understand. _When she lays her head on your shoulder, _tilt her head up and kiss her._**

"Hey," she says, sitting down on the couch next to him and leaning against his side.

"Hey," he responds, putting down the book he's reading and smiling at him. She grabs at his hand and he holds hers, playing with her fingers. They sit there for a few minutes in comfortable silence. She lets him weave her fingers in and out of hers.

"I love you, Jack," she suddenly says, resting her head on his shoulder. Jack's fingers still in surprise. He has no idea what is going on in her head that makes her express the sentiment. After a pause, he reaches over with his opposite hand and tilts her head up towards him, swiftly leaning down and kissing her firmly.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**^v^ This was so much fun to write! Except for the sad parts… but whatever! If you enjoyed it, please drop a review! **

**Until next time,**

**~BP**


	6. Contest Prompt: Kim's Dis-Reappearance?

**Once upon a time, I told people to submit prompts for a little contest thing that I was stupid enough to host. This is the result of one of them.**

**It's so weird; I always seem to update at night time, after seven at the least. Does that happen to anyone else?**

* * *

**Inspired by: **contest prompt from _missme233_:'Things are going great between Jack and Kim! Until Kim goes missing... they search and search but no one can find her. Eventually they just give up. After a year they proclaim her dead. They all separate, they have fallen out of contact without Kim. Jerry's good now, he's quiet and never gets himself in trouble. Milton's grades have fallen to F's, and he doesn't care about school, or Julie, anymore. Rudy got fired from the dojo and left the state, Eddie has seemed to switched places with Jerry, causing all sorts of trouble and Jack… Jack is the worst. He doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, doesn't even care. It seems as if all hope is lost... until one day he gets a mysterious call...'

* * *

"I'm going to work, okay, Jack?" Mom calls softly from the door. Her voice briefly brings me out of the little reverie that I had been in, and I lift my head from couch to look up at her.

"OK, Mom," I reply, trying (and failing) to manage a small smile. "See you later." I turn my head back to the T.V.

She lingers in the doorway for a second. When she doesn't leave, I look over at her again. "Mom?"

"Oh… OK. Bye." She smiles at me before closing the door behind her.

I sigh. I know she's worried about leaving me alone in the house because of the fact that Kiara is over at a friend's house for the day. They're hosting some science space convention thing. I don't know what exactly it's about. The last thing I remember her talking about is the Kupier belt.

I stare at the TV, not really paying attention to the bus-ful of teenagers getting kidnapped. My thoughts are wandering a lot easier these days. Ever since Kim's disappearance, I'm pretty much just going through the motions of life instead of actually living.

No one knows what happened. One day she's there, and the next she's gone. The police, not sure if she ran away or was murdered or kidnapped or what, proclaimed her dead after a year. In reality, I think they gave up about four months in.

I hate them for that.

The Wasabi Warriors tried to stay together, but in the end we just fell apart without her. Milton seemed to have lost all motivation for doing good in school; his grades dropped, he lost the three scholarships he earned before even acting on them, and he just doesn't seem to care.

Rudy turned to self-medication with alcohol, and Bobby Wasabi took the dojo from him after deeming him "unfit to manage" it. Rudy left the state after that and none of us have seen him since.

Jerry and Eddie seemed to have switched places; while Jerry is a more subdued, quiet version of himself, never getting into trouble and keeping to himself, Eddie had turned into the school trouble-maker who seemed to take pleasure in terrorizing teachers.

I suppose that, out of everyone, I was the worst. For the first four months, I barely ate, I slept in fits, and I'm pretty sure I went through the five stages of grief; denial, check, anger, check, bargaining, check, depression… ok, still working on that one. There's no telling when I'm going to get out of it.

Next week marks the two year anniversary of her disappearance. For a second, I abandon trying to focus on the TV and just let myself grieve. Kim. My amazing girlfriend Kim. Taken from me and others who loved her without so much as a word. _It'snotfair. _Just as fast as I let the emotions come, I lock them up in a box within me and banish them once again.

My phone rings, belting out the lyrics of _Monster _by the Imagine Dragons. I'm not sure why exactly I chose that particular ringtone, though I suppose the 'monster' described in the song could be my depression. I pick the device up, frowning. No one really calls me much anymore. People found that there's not really any point when they know I'm most likely to not pick it up. I look at the screen;

_Restricted Number_

I put it down. There's no point in answering if I don't have the number in my contacts. It rings for a few more seconds before going to voicemail.

Minutes later, Dan Reynolds starts singing again. I pick up the phone for a second time from where I had put it on the couch. Unless it's a different restricted number, it's the same person. I huff in mild annoyance and put it down once more.

_"I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,"_ yet again. I glance at it. Same number. I ignore it.

A fourth time.

A fifth.

A sixth.

The seventh time it rings, I put it on silent. But, I keep it close just in case Mom or Kiara or someone else important calls.

The phone buzzes; is this guy (or girl) persistent or what? Frustrated, I grab it from its spot without looking at the screen and angrily tap the place where I know the answer call button is.

"Who are you and why do you keep calling me?!"

_"Uh, don't you have my number saved?"_ I hear Kiara's voice ask confusedly. _"And this is the first time I've called you all day."_ I blink, and look at the screen.

It shows Kiara's picture with her name underneath it.

"Oh… sorry. I thought you were someone else."

_"Ok… I just wanted to ask if I left my iPod charger at home."_

I glance down at the outlet next to me. "Yeah, you did."

_"Oh, ok. Sarah will lend me hers, but I just wanted to make sure I didn't lose mine. So, who is this someone that you thought I was?"_

"I'm not—"

**BEEP.**

"Hold on a second," I say to Kiara. That beep signals a call waiting. I move the phone away from my ear and look at the screen.

_Restricted Number_

"That's him calling right now… or her… whatever. Do you want me to call you back?"

_"No, I'm good."_

"Ok. Bye."

_"Bye."_

She hangs up, and I answer the other call.

"Who is this?" I ask cautiously.

_"What? You're not gonna snap at me?"_ says a girl's voice.

I was slouching before, but as soon as she starts talking, I sit bolt upright. I know that voice, I'd know it anywhere. But I haven't heard it in so long… I choke on my own words as I try to get something out. "K— oh my God… Kim?"

_"What took you so long?"_ she asks teasingly.

My emotions burst out of the box and wage a war within me, battling for dominance. Anger wins out. I stand up and run a hand through my hair in frustration. "What took me so long?… Kim, I'm not the one that d-disappeared for two years without any trace whatsoever." I furiously wipe away the tears that had started making their way down my face, hating my voice for cracking.

_"Jack…"_ Her voice had takes on a sad note. _"Look, I'm sorry about that. There are some things I can't explain right now…"_

"Whatever. Are… are you ok? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

_"I'm fine… look out the window."_

"Window? What?…" I look out the back window, the one that gives a view of the backyard…

…and stop dead.

My phone slides out of my hand, forgotten. I barely hear the dull thump it makes on the carpeted floor.

Kim waves at me sheepishly, tapping something on the phone in her hand before slipping it into her pocket. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but definitely _wasn't _expecting her to look perfectly fine. It looks like whoever took her actually took care of her.

Didn't see that coming.

"Wow, you've grown up… Well? Ya gonna let me in or what?" she says cheekily.

I feel my legs automatically begin to move, one step at a time, towards the window. I open it and she climbs in.

A whole two years has done her a lot of good. She's filled out a little more (I'm glad to report) and has actually grown an inch or two, but of course I'm still taller than her. Her dark purple t-shirt depicts one blue penguin slapping another one, and reads 'I DIDN'T SLAP YOU, I HIGH-FIVED YOUR FACE'. She wears a pair of jeans that has a black ribbon criss-crossing down the side of one leg. To complete the look, she's wearing her favorite boots.

So that's where those went. I may or may not have been in her room every once in a while after she disappeared, and I may or may not have wrapped myself in some of her clothes and noticed that the leather pair of footwear was missing while I was in her closet…

"Kim…" I whisper, not quite believing she's here. She smiles shyly. After so long…

I reach out a slightly shaky hand to touch her, to know she's tangible, that she's actually here and I'm not dreaming or hallucinating. I cup her face, separating my fingers so that they part around her ear as my hand disappears underneath her long blond curtain of hair. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch slightly, smiling. I feel my eyes widen. I step even closer, so that we're practically nose to nose.

"You're…" I trail off.

"Real? Yep, about as real as you can—"

I lean down and press my lips against hers, halting her flow of words as my hands go down and gently squeeze her hips. After a split second's pause from her surprise, she kisses back, wrapping her arms around my neck.

God, I missed this; being able to kiss her like this, to be ignorant of the world around me as I focus on her and only her. I missed having her next to me and teasing me about my obsession with my hair. I missed holding her back and being to only thing keeping her from attacking some poor guy (read: Jerry) that got her angry. I missed every single thing about her, and now she's _here._

"Missed you so much…" I murmur when we part, nuzzling her neck. I can feel her smirk without even looking at her.

"Yes, I tend to have that effect on people," she replies teasingly, walking away from me and going over to sit on the couch. I follow her, still not quite believing she's here as I sit down next to her and grab her hand.

"Do your parents know you're back?" I ask, getting excited as the fact starts to sink in. "They're going to be psyched. Or—"

"Jack."

I stop talking, focusing on her after noticing a change in her previously positive demeanor. Even after two years of her absence, I can still read her body language perfectly.

"I… I can't tell anyone that I'm back. _You_ can't tell anyone that I'm back."

To say I'm shocked would be an understatement. "What?! Why?"

She chews her bottom lip nervously. She slips her hand out of mine and places it in her lap, leaving my palm feeling empty.

"Kim?"

She suddenly leans forward and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I respond immediately, though I'm more than a little confused.

"Look, Jack," she says quietly. "There are things going on that you won't understand. I can't come back yet. I still have things to do."

"'Things?'" I ask, confused. "What 'things?' Are you—" I stop talking when she removes an arm from my neck and places a finger on my lips.

"There are some really bad people that… want something from me," she says slowly, pausing and thinking through her words carefully.

"Then just call the police," I say softly, concerned for her and not willing to accept the face that she's leaving again.

She shakes her head, sliding her arms off of me. "This is way too big for the police to handle."

"What…?"

"If these people knew I was alive, they'd do anything they could to get me. And they won't hesitate to kill."

"If the police can't do anything, then who the heck can?!" I exclaim, standing up as anger seeps into my voice.

"The people that took me," she says softly, standing up as well and placatingly placing a hand on my cheek. The warmth of the limn seems to suck my fury right out of me, leaving a hollow shell. "They really just want to protect me. And that'll protect you and everyone else, too."

"Kim…"

"I'm sorry, Jack. I had to beg for Tobias to even let me visit, and even then it's only ten minutes, but _I need a little bit more time._" She looks away from me as she practically growls the last part, somehow I doubt it's directed at me.

"Tobias?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Who is this 'Tobias?'

"Yeah. The man that stole me from my room." She rolls her eyes. "He's a _jerk _that _needs to be more empathetic_." She huffs, pausing. "Don't give me that brain-damaged no-emotion excuse! He's my boyfriend, and I _love _him, dammit! If I need to talk to him for five more minutes then I will!"_  
_

I blink. She is _definitely _not talking to me.

She shifts her gaze back to me, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry about that. He can be really annoying." Pause. "No, I'm not taking that back!" Another pause. "Ugh!" She takes out an earpiece that I didn't realize she had in and throws it to the floor, stomping on it and crushing it, before looking back up at me. "Ok. You _cannot _tell _anyone _that I was here, alright?"_  
_

"Um, ignoring what just happened, do you realize how much we've fallen apart without you? Rudy moved out of the state. Milton's _failing_ all his classes. Jerry's—"

"I know," she says quietly.

"…you …know," I repeat slowly.

"Yeah. I do." She lowers her head a little, and I can see a tear running down her cheek. "It kills me. I come back every so often, just… watching. You guys never know I'm there. I know that Jerry seems to have turned into a different person and Eddie's practically a delinquent know, and that my parents are planning a two year anniversary gathering thing… this is hurting me, too, Jack, to watch you guys suffer."

I grab her forearms gently. "Then _do_ something about it."

She turns out of my grip, her back to me. "Why can't you understand, Jack? I _can't_." Her hands, which had been hanging limply by her sides, clench into fists. "It would result in all of you being in danger, and I can't do that. These men that are after me have _guns _and _knives _that they're not afraid to use. There's this one of them that loves to _torture _people! I'm not going to risk putting everyone through that."

I close my eyes and sigh. She's still as stubborn and unrelenting as she's always been. "…fine. I just have one question." I don't wait for her to respond before I ask it. "Why did you choose me to talk to?"

She turns around again. "Because you're the one who took my disappearance the hardest."

I feel my eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Really? Not Eddie, who's probably doing something illegal right now, or Milton, who's practically ruined his own future?"

She shakes her head. "They've moved on, Jack. Eddie's decided to change his ways because of an incident last week. Julie somehow got Milton to start caring again. Bobby's thinking about getting Rudy to come back. My parents are sad, but they've learned to smile because I was there instead of grieve because I'm gone. They're all improving except for you. You just haven't noticed because you're too busy drowning in your own misery."

Now that I think about it, I do remember Kiara mentioning Milton got a B on the last test they took. That's an improvement, among the various Fs and Ds that he'd been getting before. Jerry's actually tried to start a few conversations with me. Eddie's in class more often… how did I never notice this?

I hear a car honk from outside. I lean to the side a little to see out the window, but I don't see any cars.

"That's Tobias," Kim says, rolling her eyes. "He's probably pretty pissed." She looks up at me again, steeping closer. "Seriously, though." As if we were joking before. "You can't tell anyone about me coming. Absolutely no one."

"Ok…" I respond, defeated and despondent. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

"Hopefully," she says back, smiling sadly. She steps close again and kisses me, this time a lot longer and slower than when she first came in. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. This might be the last time I ever see her.

"Do me a favor?" she asks, her warm breath fanning out over my lips when we part for air.

"Hmm?" I say in response.

"Try to get the Wasabi Warriors back together again. You guys are stronger togther."

"How do you expect me to do that?"

"You're Jack Brewer," she says, pulling back a little and smirking. "You can figure it out. It'll be just like when Rudy got that promotion or business or whatever it was."

I gaze at her, at the girl I thought was gone forever. She's still just as beautiful as she was when she disappeared. I've pictured all sorts of horrible scenarios explaining what happened to her, but she's alright. She's safe wherever she is. That was all I really hoped for. And she had risked coming back just to talk to me. Even if she has to leave again for reasons that I can't quite grasp, the least I can do is this one thing for her.

"Sure."

* * *

**Really bad ending, as usual. Is there a Conclusion Coach (just made that up, yay creativity!) out there that can help or something?**

**Review, please, even if you didn't like it; just don't flame. That's a no-no.**

**Until next time,**

**~BP**


	7. Daylight' and 'Some Nights'

**So, I was listening to iHeartRadio when I got this idea. Hope you enjoy! ^v^ And a character from Danny Phantom makes an appearance as well. DON'T SCREAM AT ME BECAUSE HE'S NOT PAIRED WITH SAM. **

**…well, I suppose that gives it away.****  
**

* * *

**Inspired By: **"Daylight" by Maroon 5 and "Some Nights" by Fun

* * *

"…we will return when the dawn breaks to collect Mr. Brewer and the young Leo."

With that, the palace guards turn and leave the small dwelling. Mrs. Fenton wails and runs after them, begging and pleading for them not to take her brother and her son at the same time, that if only they could have a bit more time with them…

30-year-old Jackson Brewer drops down on the couch, numb, the strength suddenly leaving his legs. Both him and his _nephew _had been chosen. The man knows that he's bound to have been selected at some point, with all the times that he had put his name into the Draft Drawing, but _Leo?! _Why Leo?_  
_

And most importantly, _how _Leo?

Said eight-year-old sits across from the man quietly, head bowed and hands folded quietly in his lap. The boy is a spitting image of his uncle when he was at that age, minus the blue eyes he inherited from his father. Apparently they not only shared looks and blood, but the same bull-headed determination to do whatever he wants instead of following the rules.

"Leo."

The boy doesn't respond.

"Leo, _look at me._"

Terrified and sheepish blue eyes meet stern brown as the child slowly lifts his head.

"How could you do something like this?"

"I'm _sorry, _uncle," the boy cries. "But I'm tired of being hungry all the time! All I wanted to do was help!"

Jack curses to himself. He knew he should have questioned where the extra food was coming from, but he didn't want to ask the guards for fear that they would realize their mistake and take away the surplus food.

In all honesty, he should have seen this coming. He hadn't thought to wonder about how this war was affecting Leo and his daughter Olivia. None of the adults had. They were too busy worrying about closing down the dojo, about sales in the shop, about all the problems that had befallen them and the rest of the population because of this godforsaken _war._

No one knows just when it had started. Jack knows it was before he was born. But, his now dead parents remembered the time before the war, so it couldn't have been more than fifty years. But the whole country is suffering; most all of the available resources are going towards the war effort and the royals, leaving the people with little to nothing.

The Draft Drawing had been started to give people an opportunity to earn more than the meager rations of food that they were given each month. The war situation had gotten so desperate that the King had begun to allow _children _the age of eight or older to put their name in the drawing as well! It was completely absurd, but someone had convinced their ruler that the enemy was less likely to fight against children.

No one knows if this is true or not.

You were allowed to put in your name at most ten times per two months. Each time you put your name in meant one more small loaf of bread, one more hunk of cheese, or, if you were lucky and had good land, one more packet of seeds.

If your name is in the Drawing for more than two years, then it disappears, and you don't have to worry. You're required to put your name in at least three times by the time you were eighteen, men and women. But, judging by how much more food they were getting, Jack suspected Leo had done it much more than that…

Jack sighs. He hears a sound before he can start to speak though, and he turns around. His seven-year-old daughter Olivia jumps out of her hiding place behind the couch and runs off before she can be reprimanded. Jack sits forward again and drags a hand down his face. Just one more year before she can put her name in as well.

Jack can hear his wife Kimberly and his brother-in-law Danny, trying to console their sister-in-law and wife Kiara respectively.

"Leo…" he trails off. He doesn't even know what to say. How could he punish the boy who just wanted to help his family? Jack can't say he wouldn't have done the same.

"I can fight, uncle," the boy says quietly. "Father and I, we've been working on controlling my powers."

The man stares at his nephew, planning on having a talk with Danny later. "Please don't tell me he's been teaching you how to _use _them as well?"

Leo huffs. "No. He's only teaching me physical combat so I can protect myself from the boys who pick on me at school."

The corner of the man's lip curves upward against his will. He can just picture the small boy standing over his larger tormentors with a smug grin on his face. His smile fades, though, at the thought of Leo's powers. "Leo, you can not let _anyone _else besides this family know about your abilities, alright? If the palace finds out**_—_**"

"—they'll surely cart me off to some unknown place to use me as a weapon," the boy recites obediently, the words having been ingrained into his head after hearing them for years. "I know, uncle."

"Alright," Jack says, clueless on what else to say.

At that moment, Kiara, Danny, and Kim walk into the small living room. Kiara immediately flies out of her husband's grip and approaches her child, sobbing.

"Oh, my precious boy!" she wails, hugging him so tightly that Jack fears the boy isn't getting any air. "My precious, _stupid _boy!" She pulls back and half glares at him, not seeming to have the heart to be completely angry at her son. Jack's theory is proved correct when the child inhales deeply. "How could you?!"

"I'm sorry Mother," Leo says, near tears. "I just wanted to help get us more food."

His words throw the woman into another round of hysterics as she hugs him again. Danny slowly approaches his wife and son and places a hand on the boy's back. Kim also sits down next to Jack and places a shaking hand on his leg, reminding him that Leo isn't the only one leaving.

He grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly.

* * *

The sun had hidden away for the day, leaving the full moon and stars to illuminate Jack and Kim's room instead of the usual candlelight. Jack can easily his wife's form on the bed, sitting up and staring at him with wide, sad eyes. He obliges, climbing onto cot and slipping under the covers next to her.

She gravitates towards him, and he allows her to move into his arms. Her hair is free from its normal bun and flows around her like liquid gold. They face each other and he lifts a hand up to rub her cheek absently with his thumb. She tilts her chin towards him and he kisses her slowly, gently, savoring every moment.

They wordlessly let Olivia into the bed when she walks into the room. They don't speak at all, not even when the girl falls asleep in between them.

Truthfully, the adults knew this day would come. They knew it all along. The question was… how did it come so fast? To Jack, it seems like it was only yesterday when he was putting his name into the Drawing for the first time. And now… now he's going to leave.

It's only a matter of time before the other adults gets picked as well. They had all decided that Kiara would no longer put her name into the Drawing. She had already put in her name the required amount of time, years earlier. They agreed that she was the best one to stay and take care of the children if the others get chosen. In reality, though the other three would never admit this to her, it's because they doubted she would last ten seconds in a situation where she had to kill someone.

Jack shakes himself out of his musings, instead focusing on his wife and child (not so) peacefully slumbering away. This is their last night together. Kim and Jack can give the child hope that her father and best friend will come back some day, but chances are they never will. No one they know has left and ever come back.

It's late now, but Jack is trying not to fall asleep, because he knows he'll have to leave when he wakes up. When that daylight comes, he has to go. With that thought, he holds his wife and daughter close.

He stares at his wife. She looks so beautiful, even in a tortured sleep. Why does he have to leave her and their equally beautiful daughter? (He knows exactly why.) He looks up at the window behind her, a tear falling down his face as the sun burns the stars out of the brightening sky.

If only he could slow it down somehow.

It's so hard. He knows that when the sun comes up, he'll be going, leaving everything he's ever known behind. He looks down at his wife child again. The physical feeling of holding them, touching them, feeling them, will soon be nothing but memory.

He used to be afraid of the dark, as a child. He'd shun it, always having a candle to temporarily chase it away. But right now, as it recedes away from the offending brightness, it's all he wants.

* * *

There are a lot of things Jack wishes for, depending on what night you ask him. Some nights he wishes that he could cash in years of bad luck and just send himself and Leo home as a reward. If not him _and _Leo, then just Leo. Other nights he just gives up. Still others he wishes he had the power to build be incredibly wealthy; wealthy enough to build castle of stability and serenity around himself and his family and everyone else that's suffered from this war, even the enemy. Yet other nights he wishes that he didn't have to deal with anything; not protecting anyone, not doing anything.

He supposes it's his stupidly selfless behavior that makes the other six men hate him. If it's not that, then he doesn't know what is. Even the freaking _leader _hates him. He doesn't understand what he did wrong; they seem perfectly fine with Leo. Then again, it could be because Leo is the youngest in the group and they're assuming a sort of older-brother role.

He tries twice as hard to get everyone to like him, but he's still half as like as everyone else. Yet, whenever he does something good, one of them will always be there to copy it and get the credit for it. It just makes him wonder.

Wondering is something he does quite a lot. He wonders what exactly he stands for in this war. He doesn't know what he's fighting for, so how could he? What does he represent? A man fighting to defend one's country from invaders? Or one trying to help take over land that doesn't belong to him and therefore ruining the lives of others?

He's been doing this for ten years and his still has no clue.

The only one positive thing about all of this is that he and Leo were never separated. He thanks whatever deity is up there for that fact every single day, for the fact that he's been able to watch over and take care of the boy as if he were his own. Heck, Leo practically _is _his own. There's nothing like ten years worth of fighting to strengthen an uncle/nephew relationship.

Jack laughs wryly at his own humor. He looks around, vaguely knowing that he's wouldn't have woken anyone up (these men sleep like the dead) but still doing it anyways. Above him (they sleep in bunks) come Leo's steady breaths. Precious breaths, because there's always the chance you never will breathe again. When you're fighting like this, you live every day like it's your last.

_'This may be the last time I sleep in a bed,' _the man thinks, as he drifts off. _'This may be the last time I hear Leo breathe in his sleep. This may be the last time…'_

He dreams about Kim. She's lying on their cot, back at home, and just beckoning to him. With her, he knows who he is. He's Jackson Brewer, husband, father, brother, uncle…

But as he moves towards the bed, she gets farther and farther away. He walks, then runs, then practically all out sprints, but no matter what he does she's always out of his reach. It's torturous. He wakes up with a gasp. It's morning.

* * *

He doesn't see the grenade flying through the air until its too late.

Leo and him were the only ones in the grenade's vicinity. He turns to warn his eighteen-year-old nephew to run, _run,_ but he slips in the sand from moving too fast. He failed. He hears Leo's voice yelling if he's alright over the gunfire before—

**_BOOM._**

Jack's body flies through the air, and he feels strangely detached from it. His brutal landing on the unforgivably hot sand does a good job of remedying that. _'Leo,' _is his first coherent thought through the pained haze of his brain. _'Where's Leo?'_

He looks around, ignoring his injuries as the thought of his nephew's safety takes over his mind. _'Leo. Leo.' _He tries to call out, but he can't get above more than a whisper. He sticks to just looking around.

A flash of brown hair.

Jack digs his fingers into the sand and drags himself towards the prone form of his sister's son, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. _'Leo!' _The teen had fallen on the other side of a small dune. He isn't moving. _'No!'_

He moves closer to the teen. When he reaches his side, he collapses, laying on his side next to the younger. "Leo," he croaks, brushing his nephew's long hair out of his face. Jack smiles weakly when a pair of pained baby blues slowly open. The teen's head turns towards him.

"Uncle…" Leo's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Uncle, am I dying?"

Jack takes in how much of Leo's blood had already escaped him and seeped into the sand. His heart sinks. They're _both _dying.

"No," Jack lies. He suddenly realizes what might help the teen. "Not if… not if you use your powers."

"But you said—"

"_I know what I said," _Jack snaps, feeling guilty when the teen's face looks hurt. "But just this once… speed up your healing process or something, so you'll be okay."

"But what about you?" Leo asks, his voice already sounding faint. "If I do that, I won't have enough energy to help you."

"I'll be fine," Jack lies again, as he feels his eyelids grow heavy. Death approaches slowly, taunting him, letting him know that he doesn't have much time left.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he chokes.

The last thing he sees are a pair of blue eyes turning green.

* * *

**I'm in a depressing mood so I write depressing things. Deal with it.**

**Until next time,**

**~BP**


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